Welcome to Bon Temps
by lizardmm
Summary: Vampires are now openly accepted members of society while Slayers have gone into hiding and have voluntarily given up their powers. While searching for a way to defeat Twilight, Buffy and Faith find themselves in Bon Temps, LA. True Blood x-over.
1. Chapter 1

**POV Buffy**

I don't know how we got here. I don't know how the world I died for (twice) turned out this way. Maybe it was bound to happen. Maybe the world just wasn't ready for all these strong women at once. Or maybe I can just blame Harmony Kendall and Reality TV.

I hardly recognize this world anymore. A world where vampires have "come out of the coffin" – where they're famous or some ultra-hip minority group. And sure even I once was young and innocent and got caught up in the gestalt of the living dead. Sure, maybe you could have called me a 'fangbanger' back in the day. But I was doing it _way _before it got trendy.

Sometimes I find myself reading through the Watcher's Diaries and wondering if they would have ever suspected that we'd ever live in a world where Vampires are celebrities and Slayers are to be reviled and feared. So what did we do about it? No, we didn't stay and fight. You can't fight the entire world. No, instead we hid. And we gave up our Powers. Just kind of let them…slip away into the earth. Including me.

And it didn't work. Twilight and the military are still after us.

So now I'm standing on the side of a deserted Louisiana road, and Faith is kicking at the tires of our borrowed car and cursing like a sailor. As if any of it's going to magically make the vehicle work again.

We were on our way to New Orleans when the car broke down. One of Giles' still-reliable resources instructed us that there's a woman in the Big Easy who can help us with this Twilight madness. I'm sure I could have sent anybody else to retrieve this woman, but even without my Powers, I'm still the Leader.

Not to mention I needed a valid reason to get away from the disarming event that has become the Dawn and Xander smooch-fest.

Because we're trying to do this as incognito as possible, and plus with the whole nixing of the magic mojo, Faith and I took a small charter plane from the closest city to Oz's farm in the Himalayas. For the past week, we've been country-hopping until we found our way to the United States, leaving a complicated trail in our wake.

One of the new Potential's families lives in the D.C. area, so we took a train from Pennsylvania to the nation's capital to borrow her family's Honda Civic. I'm sure we could have just as easily gotten a rental car or taken a train or plane straight to New Orleans, but Giles reasoned it would be harder for Twilight to track us down this way.

When I first suggested the trip to the group, Satsu had insisted she should come along with me. But with our...uhm…past, I didn't really feel comfortable going on the King of all Road Trips with her. We've really tried to stay out of each other's way the past few months, anyway. I could tell she was hurt when I said no, but she seemed to perk up when I noted that she was my strongest warrior, and I needed her to stay behind and keep everyone safe.

I have to admit that I was more than a little surprised when Faith volunteered to come along, however. Since she's been back, we've been spending a lot of time together. And, surprisingly, we haven't hurt each other, yet. We even had a nice moment on Oz's farm, trying to move a giant boulder with sticks. Some kind of 'get used to being weak' activity that Oz and his wife thought up.

I admitted to her that I was tired of being the leader. Tired of _standing over _people. Her hand found its way to my shoulder in a consoling way, and it dawned on me that she had never touched me like that…never. It was a welcomed surprise to discover that her hands could do things besides strangle me under water.

We're still the only Originals out of this vast army of now-powerless women, and even though we still get crazy around each other once in a while, she's the only one who truly knows how this feels. Plus she's strong. Even without her Powers, she's still a trained warrior. And who knows what we'll find in New Orleans when we actually arrive there.

Correction. _If _we ever get there.

"Yo, B!" she calls out, rattling me out of my silent musings. "I think I see headlights!"

My head perks up at the prospect. Maybe the trip's not a total waste just yet.

When the borrowed compact had started making noises about ten miles down the road, I had begged Faith to pull over. She had insisted though with a dismissing wave of her hand that everything was fine.

"Trust me, B," she said with a lazy grin. "I know my car sounds, and this isn't anything to worry about."

She was convincing, so I squirmed back into the passenger seat and tried to get comfortable again. After all, Faith certainly is the tomboy type. I was sure she'd probably helped her guy friends in Boston fix up old cars. Besides, I reasoned, wasn't it also one of the many trades they taught you in Prison?

About fifteen minutes later she had the flashers on and the hood up. I didn't want to say 'I told you so' because that wasn't going to help out situation at all. But I _did _tell her so.

A big black pickup truck pulls to a squeaky stop, close to our broken car. The truck's engine shuts off and the driver climbs out. He's by himself, so I'm not too worried about our safety. I mean, we might not have our slayer powers, but we still know how to do stuff to protect ourselves.

The driver is about average height, probably in his mid-twenties – maybe a little younger than me. Even in the dark, I can tell his body is tan and tightly built as though he works outside all day. _Landscaping_, I think as I regard him. _Or maybe construction._

"You girls alright?" he drawls as he slowly makes his way over to us. His leather boots crunch against the loose gravel on the shoulder of the road.

Faith looks exasperated as she fumbles around with the innards of our borrowed car. "This piece of shit car just broke down," she loudly complains. I can hear the sounds of her tinkering under the hood as she continues. "I'm thinking it might be the fuel pump cause I can't get the engine to turn over."

The man looks thoughtfully between Faith and the car. I could almost see the words 'Girls-Can't-Fix-Cars' scrawled on his forehead. He has a handsome face. His eyes look tight and his mouth drawn. It's the kind of face that could look mean if he wanted to. But right now he just looks mildly amused.

"You sure it ain't the battery or the alternator?" he suggests.

Faith sighs with disgust and slams the hood closed. "Listen, buddy –,"

"The name's Jason," the truck-owner smiles smoothly. "Jason Stackhouse."

"Well then, Jason…" Faith struggles to contain her anger between clenched teeth. "It couldn't possibly be either of those cause our emergency flashers and headlights still work."

Jason scratches at his scruffy blonde hair. "I recon you got a point there," he nods slowly.

Faith pushes out a long breath. "Could you just give us a ride to the closest town?"

Neither of us had a cell phone. Xander was worried the military would use the GPS to find us. And the idea of having a big homing beacon in my purse had been all the convincing I needed to keep the technology at home.

"Why sure thing!" the Southerner exclaims. "We're just a stones throw from Bon Temps. Gotta warn you though, she ain't much to look at."

"Does this Bon Temps place at least have a mechanic?" Faith sighs, running her fingers through her long brunette hair.

Jason nods enthusiastically. "Sure thing. And there's even talk of a Walmart gettin' built."

I gotta give Faith credit. She hasn't started to laugh yet. She merely rolls her eyes and thickly states, "Well isn't that just progressive."

"I'm Buffy!" I squeak out from my spot, sick of being left out of the conversation for so long. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I must look like a nightmare. We'd been driving all day.

Jason looks momentarily startled as if he hadn't noticed me standing there. But he recovers quickly. "Well, hi there, Buffy. Glad to make your acquaintance."

The sandy-haired man looks back at my disgruntled friend. "And who might you be?" he asks with a wide grin.

My brunette partner-in-slayage frowns. I forgot we were supposed to be using our cover names on the road. I'm supposed to be Molly Hefpepper and she's Ginger Rackhouse. Don't ask me where the names came from. Andrew just blurted them out when we were planning the trip.

"I'm Faith."

The oversized pickup slows down and pulls into a crowded, unpaved parking lot. I look around, trying to get my bearings. A trailer park seems to pop up in the distance. In the foreground is a tin and wood building whose giant neon sign proudly proclaims: 'Merlotte's.'

"Where are we?" I ask the driver. I got stuck in sitting in the middle because I'm the smallest of the three.

"Merlotte's is our local bar," he informs us as he puts his truck in park. "I know the owner, Sam, so I'll call ya'll a tow from his office, and you two can get something to eat. You girls look like you could use some meat on your bones."

Jason unsnaps his seat belt and goes to unfasten mine as well. Faith slaps his hands away before they can get too close to me, however. "She's got hands of her own, stud-muffin," she snaps. "I think she can handle it herself." Jason only grins and shrugs, not offended by Faith's curt demeanor.

As we follow Jason up to the bar's main entrance, I grab onto Faith's elbow. "Why do you have to be so mean?" I hiss, low enough for only her to hear.

I can feel her arms go rigid. "I just don't like that cocky S.O.B., that's all," she complains.

I narrow my eyes at her. "Well I think he's sweet, so leave him alone."

"Yeah," Faith snorts. "I bet he's real sweet. Right up until you spread your thighs for him."

I slap at her arm hard, wishing I still had the physical strength to make it sting a little. "What is with you?" I demand. "I'm not looking to start anything. He was nice to give us a ride, that's all. So stop it."

Faith rolls her eyes at me. "Yeah, I'll bet he wants to _give you a ride_."

I bite down on my tongue to keep from saying something scathing and hurtful. We'd been doing so well the entire trip. I didn't understand why she had to ruin it now.

Jason opens the door for us, which only makes Faith's scowl even deeper. We walk through the door, and I quickly take in my surroundings. The bar is modestly sized. A jukebox stands untouched in a far corner along with a single pool table. The rest of the space is filled with small wooden tables and restaurant booths. The chairs are all covered in a green vinyl that reminds me of the bowling alley my parents used to take me to when I was much younger.

In the center of the space is the bar itself, where a beautiful woman with dark, flawless skin serves up beer and mixed drinks for the clientele. Her long, black hair is pulled back from her face in tiny, skinny braids. Her high cheekbones are well-defined, and when she wipes down the countertop with a bar rag, I can see the strength of her slender body in the way her upper arms slightly ripple. Some women have a flawless kind of beauty, and this bartender certainly has it.

"You two go on and take a load off." Jason's voice startles me momentarily. I had forgotten he was standing behind me.

I dutifully follow Faith back towards a corner booth and give a nervous smile to everyone who looks our way. It's obvious that Bon Temps doesn't receive too many visitors. That or I've suddenly just grown horns.

Our roadside savior gives us a quick wave as Faith and I sit down opposite each other. "I won't be long," he promises with a wink. "Just gonna go call that tow truck." Jason turns to walk away, and I find myself staring at the tightest ass in the world's tightest pair of faded jeans.

"That boy's not too bright, but he certainly wears the hell outta jeans."

I look up quickly to see a bright red-haired woman with heavy make-up standing over our table. Her cheeks are blushed pink and her eyelids are teal-blue. She's wearing the same outfit as the other bar employees – a thin, white t-shirt with Merlotte's scrawled in green ink, and short, black cotton shorts.

"Oh, I-I was just," I stammer with embarrassment. Leave it to me to get busted the one time I indulge myself. "I wasn't, I mean..."

The waitress gives me a sly wink and clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Don't worry about it, Sugar," she reassures me. "Even the locals like to visit the zoo sometimes."

I flick my eyes over to Faith's face. _What is this woman talking about? _My brunette friend just gives me a shrug, but the devilish smile on her face lets me know I wasn't the only one ogling the local scenery.

"Arlene," a high-pitched female voice calls out, "are you fixin' to steal another one of my tables?"

A girl a little younger than me with light blonde hair walks over to Arlene, and gives her a gentle bump with her hip. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she's curled the ends giving her a kind of 1950s bobby-sox look. Her make-up is light, but her pink lip-gloss shines against her bronzed face. She's wearing the same uniform as everyone else, but seems to fill it out a little more. Her breasts are a little larger than the other waitress's, making her top tight across her chest. Her hips are a little fuller, pulling the drab cotton shorts higher up her tanned thighs.

Arlene grins at the younger woman. "Don't you worry, girl," she drawls. "I've got a full-plate tonight. Your tables are safe from me." The red-haired waitress's teeth shine down on us before she saunters away. "I'd suggest you stay away from the chili," she warns us. "It's a little spicy tonight."

When Arlene has moved on to another section of the bar, the blonde girl sets two napkins down and two waters in tall plastic glasses. "Welcome to Merlotte's," she beams, looking the two of us over. "Let me tell you about our specials tonight."

My attention is taken away from the laminated menu in front of me when that familiar itch at the base of my spine alerts me. I look up and catch Faith's eyes. She felt it too. _Vampire._ Apparently even though we're physically powerless, our Vampire alert-system still works just fine.

I look toward the entrance of the bar and bristle when a broad-shouldered man strolls easily into the bar as though he'd done in a hundred times before. His skin is eerily pale and his nose and chin strong like a marble Roman or Greek statue. His dark hair is thick and pushed across his forehead in a style that looks both modern and old at the same time. His face is clean-shaven except for a pair of long mutton-chops that fall further south than is currently fashionable. Vampire, indeed.

I flick my eyes away from the vampire and back towards Faith. I can tell she's thinking the same thing as me. Could the two of us together take on a single vampire? I honestly can't remember the last time I dusted a vampire. I've been so busy running and fighting _humans _lately that I haven't had time to enjoy the simpler things in life_. _

I watch suspiciously as the vampire takes a seat at a booth not too far from ours. He nods and gives a surprisingly warm smile to our waitress. She in turn waves at him. "I'll be right over, Bill," she chirps. "Just gotta take these girls' order."

I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone. There's no way that everyone in this bar doesn't know that 'Bill' is a vampire. And yet, no one seems alarmed or uneasy that he's here. In fact, the longer I sit here, the more I notice people waving and saying hello to him. Sure I'd seen more vampires on the TV ever since Harmony's freak-show reality series, but I had no idea that they were so…so _integrated_.

The blonde waitress's eyes go real big, and she stares at the two of us like we've just suddenly grown horns.

"What?" Faith barks. Miss I've-spent-time-in-the-Big-House has never been very subtle.

The girl's voice gets really low. "You two are some of those vampire killers I've heard about on the TV." It's not a question. It's as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.

Faith's mouth twists into an ugly grimace. "We're _Slayers_," she snarls quietly. "Not _killers_. But don't worry about us," she breezes, "we're off-duty tonight."

I grab at Faith's hand under the table and give it a quick, reassuring squeeze. Her dark eyes meet mine, and I can see the strained anger behind her thick eyelashes. I know that the word "killer" has always been a tender spot for her.

I look at the waitress with renewed interest. "How did you know who we are?" I ask, the suspicion thick in my voice.

The bar employee looks momentarily flustered and her pretty bronzed face turns a slight shade of pink. "I-I'm just good at pickin' up on people's energies, ya know? Like, I'm real good at reading body language and facial expressions."

I take a sip from my glass of water and nod slowly, my eyes not leaving her face. I don't believe her for a second.

I want to find out more about this blonde waitress, so I try to strike up a conversation with her as she tries to take our food order. "Kinda busy in here isn't it?"

She looks around the crowded bar and nods absently. "Yeah, there was a rodeo down in Shreveport, so we're getting the crowd comin' home from that. Normally it's not like this on a Thursday night."

In the distance I hear a familiar electric guitar rift coming from the jukebox. Someone in the bar picked, "You Shook Me All Night Long" by AC/DC. When the single gets further into its intro and more people recognize the song, a few hoots and hollers fill the bar. Everyone's got a grin plastered on their face as they take long pulls from their beer bottles and a couple of guys in tight jeans twirl their girls around on a make-shift dance floor.

Were things ever this carefree and easy in my entire life?

Jason takes this moment to return to our table. He slides into the booth next to me with a big grin across his tan face. His actions make our waitress upset, however. The blonde girl rests her hands on her hips. "Jason," she states crossly, "what are you doing? Stop bothering these girls."

Faith looks back and forth between the two locals. "You guys know each other?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

The bar employee smirks prettily. "Well, number one," she points out, "Bon Temps ain't some huge city, so pretty much everyone here knows everyone else's business. And number two," she continues matter-of-factly, "he's my brother."

I look quickly between the two and try to pick up the resemblance. Maybe it's the eyes.

"Aww shucks, Sook," Jason lightly complains, "they was stranded up on County W and I gave 'em a ride into town." He gives his sister a brilliant, yet innocent smile. "Nothing wrong with that now, is there?"

'Sook' looks warily between the three of us. I'm betting she doesn't want her brother getting wrapped up with "killers" like us.

Jason turns away from his sister and looks at me. "Called that tow truck for y'all," he smoothly drawls. "They're gonna drag your ride over to McFarlens to get fixed up."

"Great!" I chirp, scooting my backside across the green vinyl seat like I want to get out of the booth. Jason doesn't take the hint though and is still in my way. "Faith and I should probably get over there," I add, hoping he'll take the hint.

"What's the hurry?" Jason grins. His arm snakes out and casually rests on the back of the booth so his fingertips just barely brush against the top of shoulder. "McFarlens won't be open until the morning," he notes with a yawn. "Your car'll just be sittin' out front of the shop. Might as well take a load off until then."

"Well, we should at least be looking for some place to stay the night then," I point out.

He gives me a devilish smile. "I've got plenty of room at my place," he offers.

A small cough drags me away from Jason's boyish face. His sister is still standing there with her hands on her curvy hips. "Or Sam, the bar owner," she offers, her voice dripping with disapproval, "has a motel right out back." She tears her sharp eyes away from Jason and flashes Faith and me a quick grin. "Why don't you two come with me, and I'll set ya up with a nice clean room for the night?"

I look over at Faith, but she only gives me another patented shrug.

"I'll go," I offer. "Faith," I give her a warning look, "stay out of trouble."

She gives me that infamous dimpled grin and a quick wink. "Sure thing, Sugar."

"Sorry if I was a little short with y'all back there," the blonde girl apologizes as she brings me out the staff entrance and into the back parking lot. "Jason just doesn't know when to quit with the charm, and I didn't want ya'll to get the wrong impression of Bon Temps on your first night here."

"Oh!" I exclaim, suddenly feeling relief flush through my body. "You were protecting us from _him? _I thought you didn't want Jason involved with _us _because…" I look around to make sure no one can overhear our conversation, "because we're Slayers."

I know I should be more secret-identity girl, especially with Twilight hunting us, but there's something about this Southern blonde that makes me want to trust her.

The waitress waves a hand, dismissing my worries. "Heck," she laughs, "you two look harmless enough. I've seen enough this past year to know that not all vampires are Saints. And for dead sure there's some out there that deserve killin'."

I squint my eyes at the waitress. "What about Bill?" I question, not able to completely push his existence out of my mind. "Is _he_ a Saint?"

Her eyes go wide when I bring up the vampire from the bar. "Bill? Oh, you don't have to worry about him," she breezes. "He's as harmless as a fly." She gives me a proud grin. "Ever since we started datin' about a year back, he hasn't fed off a single human. Just drinks that synthetic Japanese True Blood." Her skin goes pink suddenly. "I mean, sometimes he'll take a nip at me, but that's just when we're uh…wrestling."

Wrestling. Uh-huh.

She laughs and it's a nervous bubble. "Here I go ramblin' on and on about my business, and we haven't even been properly introduced." She wipes her hands on the front of her apron and sticks a smooth hand in my direction, giving me a beaming smile. "I'm Sookie. Sookie Stackhouse."

I take her warm hand in mine and give it a firm shake. "Buffy," I grin. "Buffy Summers."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

POV Buffy

I wake up early the next morning, not because we hadn't had a late night, but because a damn rooster is crowing off in the distance. I sit up in bed, disgruntled. It takes me a while to remember where I had spent the previous night, but as soon as I see Faith snoring and face down on the pillow next to me, it all comes back.

Bon Temps, Louisiana.

The owner of Merlotte's bar, a wiry man with strawberry blonde hair named Sam, hooked us up with one of his motel rooms. It's not technically a motel anymore – more like employee housing. But he said kind of cryptically that there had been a recent vacancy and he had room for us to bunk.

I was relieved when Sookie Stackhouse, the waitress from the previous night, hadn't mentioned anything to her boss about Faith and I being vampire slayers. With the friendly reception Bill the vampire had received when he walked into Merlotte's, I was sure that Sam would probably refuse us housing if he knew we were more than just two girls whose car had unfortunately broken down.

The motel room itself isn't too bad. I don't know if I had been expecting cockroaches on the walls or something, but when Sam opened the door to our room and flicked on the light, I found myself pleasantly surprised. It looks as though the wall between two rooms had been knocked down to make a larger apartment. One room is the bedroom and the only bathroom, furnished with a double bed and a wooden desk and chair.

The adjacent room has a small, flower-print couch, plywood coffee table, and a worn-out easy chair. The second bathroom has been converted into a makeshift kitchen. Well, there's a hotplate where the toilet should be, so I guess you could call it a kitchen. It's not a large apartment, but it's definitely bigger than the rooms Faith and I have been staying at the past week. In some foreign countries we were lucky enough to stumble on a hostel, let alone a hotel while we waited for the next leg of our trip to begin.

Sam had apologized profusely for not having another bed available, but Faith just slung her arm around my shoulder and told him we'd manage just fine. That would have been harmless enough if she hadn't then slowly licked her lips and turned her eyes toward me. I could practically feel those chocolate irises sweep over my body as Sam stood there gawking. For some reason Faith gets a kick out of letting men think that we're intimate. The poor guy got all red in the face and quickly rushed away, mumbling something about needing to go for a run in the woods.

When we first started this road trip, I was honestly anxious about sharing rooms with Faith. Forget the fact that she and I used to be enemies. I was more concerned because she and I have completely different living styles. It took a little getting used to seeing her parade around after a shower, wearing only a toothbrush and a smile. I mean, I'm not a _total _prude, but at least I wear a towel. I do my best not to gawk at her body, however, because I know that would only egg her on even more. Sometimes it gets hard though not to take a peek; I mean, I haven't been with anyone since Satsu, and even _I _have needs.

So much has happened since then, that it feels like a lifetime ago. I don't know if anyone has told Faith about, uhm, what happened between Satsu and I, but I'm certainly not about to. I honestly don't know how she'd react. Maybe she'd taunt me to see if she could make me blush, or maybe she'd just throw a towel on.

I crawl out of bed as carefully as I can, so as to not wake up the slumbering girl. I swear though, if she steals my pillow while I'm gone and I find drool on it again, she's _so _not gonna live that down – although it takes a whole lot to embarrass her. I quickly pull on some shorts and a sports bra and drag my loose hair into a messy ponytail. I only pause in my routine when I hear the sound of crisp sheets moving as I'm putting on my running shoes.

"Where you goin', B?" Faith asks in one of the huskiest morning voices I've ever heard.

Her brown hair is tussled all over and she looks like she has sleep lines on one side of her face. Her dark eyes are squinting at me and her lips are twisted into a sharp frown. Faith sucks in a deep breath and looks around the room as if she, too, needs a moment to remember where exactly we spent the previous night.

I give her a carefree smile. "Just gonna go for a jog," I tell her. "I shouldn't be long."

She nods in my direction. "Don't get eaten by alligators, okay?"

I smirk at her as her head flops heavily back down on the mattress to go back to sleep, no doubt. "Okay," I laugh, "I'll do my best."

I turn to leave and pause in the doorway when I hear her last piece of advice: "Just run in a zig-zag if they chase after you."

I tug on my ponytail one last time before I start my run. Ever since giving up my Powers, I've been more fitness and health-conscious than usual. It's not that I'm a health freak, but when you get used to your body looking a certain way, it's hard to just let it go.

Faith likes to tease me by pinching my waist and telling me that I've put on a few pounds since then. I usually just slap her hands away and pout. It's easy for her to talk though – even without Slayer metabolism, her super-human appetite hasn't caught up with her yet. She keeps shoveling down the burgers and fries, and I have no idea where it goes. Maybe she has a secret pact with the Food Fairy or something. Her Soul in exchange for a tight body.

I remember hearing once that in the mid-nineteenth century, Americans equated appetite with sexuality. Don't be surprised, sometimes I _did _actually listen to what my teachers were saying. Apparently if a woman was seen eating voraciously in public, especially rich foods like meats and sweets, it was rumored that she was a nymphomaniac. Young women were taught then to only pick at their food in public and not let on that they were actually starving. So now, whenever I see Faith polish off an entire pizza by herself or destroy a jumbo cheeseburger, I can't help but get a little weak in the knees. Because seriously, if the girl has sex like she eats, she might actually be the world's best lothario.

I shake my head, trying to erase the intimate images of Faith from my mind. I can't help it; when I run, my mind tends to wander. And lately she's been on my mind a lot. I'll chalk it up to my recent dry patch and not some secret lusting over my dangerously beautiful slaying-partner.

I allow my eyes to scan my surroundings as I quicken my pace just slightly. Maybe if I'm focused on the run, my mind won't keep drifting to her. I've never really been in a place that looks like small-town Louisiana. The trees look different and the air feels heavy around me. The houses all seem inhumanly small; but then again, before we started running away from Twilight, I had spent the past few years living in a Scottish castle.

A few people are awake already at this early hour. I notice couples leaving for work or doing early morning chores in their yards. Some of them wave cheerfully and yell out 'Good mornings' as I trot by, but others just stare. They must not get too many strangers around these parts. Or maybe no one else is fool enough to run in this humidity.

My calves are starting to loosen up finally, so I lengthen my stride, pushing myself to run just a little faster. The rhythmic crunching of loose gravel beneath my sneakers lulls me into a serene blanket of safety. I can feel my upper abdominal muscles pull and flex slightly with every step, and it makes me smile just a little. It's hot out, even at this early hour. My hairline starts to itch as I continue to run along an unpaved roadway. The sweat beads on my forehead and slowly trickles down to my nose before I wipe it away.

I let my mind start to wander again as I turn down a gravel road that runs along a small creek. With any luck, the mechanic will have our borrowed car fixed before the weekend starts, and Faith and I can continue on to New Orleans. We're still a healthy distance from the southern part of the state, so it's not like we could just take a cab down to the French Quarter. I don't exactly know what this voodoo woman in New Orleans is going to be able to do for us, but at this point I'd call in the Jolly Green Giant if I thought he could help us defeat Twilight.

I can't really remember why we all agreed that making ourselves weaker would actually help us fight Twilight. At the time it sounded reasonable. We give up our powers, we stop doing magic, and the military no longer feels threatened. But now when I think about it, it just feels like defeat. Like we gave up and turned the other cheek, hoping that Twilight and his groupies would take pity on us.

The worst part of it all is I don't know if this power drain is permanent. What if we actually _do _need to stay strong? What if asking Willow to give up magic is what eventually destroys the world as we know it? My memories of what the Future looks like – Fray's version of the Future – keeps me awake at nights. Every decision I make as the Leader of this rag-tag group of women pushes me closer to insanity. What if _this _is what I do to destroy the world? One word continually flashes through my brain. Teleological. How can you possibly live your life day to day when you know exactly how everything turns out?

I finally stop running when I remember that I don't know this place; plus I don't have a cell phone with me in case I get lost. Before I head back though, I take a detour to the side of the road. My left calf muscle feels a little tight, so I lean into a rough-barked tree and stretch out my hamstring, pushing my bent toes against the base of its trunk.

I look up suddenly when I hear the tall weeds near me rustle. I've never been a big fan of live animals – especially not since one of my best friends was possessed by a hyena – so the possibility that a creepy crawly thing could be wiggling my way, makes my body tense. A rabbit, a pig, maybe even a snake, I could handle. But nothing prepares me for what I see staring at me. Snapping its jaws.

While I was stretching my tightened muscles, a GIANT ALLIGATOR crawled out of the adjacent creek and made its way closer to me. As I stare into its beady, yellowed eyes, all I can think about are Faith's last mocking words as I left the motel room this morning – _run in a zig-zag._

I have no idea if her strategy really works, or if it's as useless as hitting two sticks together to keep away the mountain lions. But regardless, my calves are screaming at me. If this thing is fast at all, I'm not gonna outrun it. I curse myself for running so fast and pushing myself too hard before.

My normal Slayer gracefulness has seemingly left me along with my strength, because as I turn to run away from the bumpy creature, I trip on a large root that juts out of the marshy ground. As my body twists, I feel a sharp pain in my left knee. This just keeps getting better and better. I fall hard onto the swampy earth; everything feels muddy and sticky, and if I wasn't being chased by a man-eating alligator, I might be more disturbed.

I push hard off the ground as if doing a push-up, and flip onto my back. I must look like a horrible cliché as I scramble to escape. It's always the blondes that meet unfortunate deaths in horror flicks. The brunettes always seem to make it until the end. Damn you, Faith.

When the toothy, scaly monster opens it mouth and hisses at me, the most pathetic, girlie shriek escapes my mouth. I'm half thankful that no one is around to have heard the noise, but then again a little help would be nice right about now. I continue to creep backwards, crab-walk style, until my back bumps into the trunk of a large tree.

The alligator seems to eyeball me for a moment before slightly recoiling backwards. I shut my eyes tightly, convinced that this is the end. Or at least the end of all my appendages. A visual of an alligator swimming around with my tennis shoe proudly in its gaping mouth flashes through my mind. My body is tense and I wait for the reptile to strike.

My eyes only open when I hear the sharp crack of a shotgun overhead. Great. Now I'm getting shot at too? My eyes flip wide open just in time to see the alligator slink back into the creek, disappearing under the murky water.

I look the other way to see who shot off the gun that scared the slayer-eating reptile away. The sun is shining into my eyes, so all I can see is a shadowy form and a face standing over me. But when I bring a hand up to block out the bright sun, I suddenly recognize the smiling face beaming down at me.

It's Jason. Sookie's brother. My knight in shining…er…well…tight jeans.

"Damn girl," he blusters in his thick, lazy accent. He wipes his sweaty brow and gives me a lopsided grin. "That was a close one."

I can only nod dumbly up at him. Maybe the alligator got my tongue. He suddenly remembers himself and drops the shotgun to the ground so he can help me stand up. His hands are sweaty as he pulls me off the earth, and I hiss a little when I inadvertently put more weight on my knee than I had originally intended. Yup. It's definitely sprained.

My knee chooses this opportunity to give out, and I fall into Jason's thin, yet surprisingly muscular arms. My nostrils are assaulted by his scent. He smells faintly of sweat and some kind of bar soap. Irish Spring?

"S-sorry," I manage to sputter out. "I must've hurt my knee."

He's smiling down at me again, and my heart flutters a little like I'm a frickin' school girl. It's been far too long if this guy is making me go all gooey. Not that he isn't a total doll, but I just never pictured myself with a Southerner. They always seemed so…unevolved. And in my line of work, you need to be with someone open-minded. Really open-minded.

"Don't worry," he croons. His pale blue eyes seem to almost twinkle in the sunshine. His voice takes on a lower register. "You're safe now."

I want to laugh in his boyish face because this whole situation seems so absurd. I'm a _Slayer _for God's sake! I'm the Chosen One, not some damsel in distress. I get attacked by apocalypse-y demons and the United States military – not zoo animals. Being powerless has never felt so humiliating.

"What are you doing way out here?" he asks, still holding me up.

"I-I was going for a run," I lamely admit. Who knew that trying to live healthy would be so hazardous to one's health?

"Well c'mon, darlin'," he sooths. "I'll give ya a ride back to town."

Jason helps me limp over to the passenger side of his gigantic pickup truck. He has to help me climb into the cab because of my knee, plus I'm short to begin with. It somehow seems higher than when he gave Faith and me a ride the previous evening, but I might just be tired from the run and the near-death experience. I swear I feel his hands linger momentarily on my backside as he pushes me up into the passenger side, but I'm really in no position to deny him that cheap thrill.

We drive back to the motel in silence. I don't really know what to say to him besides thanking him for scaring away the dinosaur. He doesn't look disturbed by my silence, however. Maybe he's used to being with vapid blondes without much conversation skills. He leans in to turn on the radio and I snicker a little when yet another country ballad blasts out the truck speakers.

We pull into the dusty parking lot behind Merlotte's and I wait for Jason to hop out of the driver's side and help me out of the cab. It's not that I'm getting used to his Southern chivalry, but I know I'd only hurt my knee even more if I decide that now's the time to be stubborn about accepting his help.

He helps me hobble over to the motel with one arm tight around my waist. When we finally make it to my room, I knock loudly on the front door of number Three - the room Faith and I had shared the previous night. Somehow in my scrambling around on the ground, I dropped my room key. Stupid alligator monster probably went back and ate it, with my luck. Jason gives me another huge grin when I look at him after no one answers the door.

"She's probably just in the shower and can't hear me," I explain, but a million other scenarios are flashing through my brain. Faith could be anywhere.

"Merlotte's should be open for breakfast by now," the sandy-haired man explains. "I bet Sam's getting ready for the lunch crowd and can get you another key."

I bite my bottom lip and look once more longingly at the closed door. Why can't Faith be where I want her to be, the one time I need her? I just want to shower off the muck and gunk that's now crusted onto my shorts and sports bra and the top edges of my socks. Plus the gravel parking lot that separates the bar from the motel looks massive because of my twisted knee.

"I'd offer to get the key for you myself," the boy blushes, "but with my, uh, reputation around these parts, Sam might not just hand over the key to your front door."

I give the Stackhouse brother a curious eyebrow. "Your reputation?"

He blushes even deeper and it's kind of endearing to see a man whose face can actually turn different colors. Vampires are kind of mono-facial. You know…pale.

"Well, uh," he stammers, kicking his boots around in the fine dust that's settled on the concrete stoop in front of the door. "I guess you can say that I'm kinda popular with the ladies around here," he begrudgingly admits. "And Sam might not be so keen with me gettin' overly friendly with you two ladies in his motel."

My jaw drops slightly at his honesty, but I'm somehow able to gather my composure fairly quickly. "S-sure," I stammer. "That makes sense."

"I'll help ya over to the bar though?" he offers. "Like I said, Sam should be over there by now." He kind of looks me up and down, and I can't read his expression. "Actually…" he ponders out loud and strokes at his smooth chin.

Before I can react, I'm suddenly scooped up in his arms and he's carrying me away from the motel room and towards the bar. "Hey!" I cry out in protest and slap my hand on his chiseled chest.

"Now stop squirmin' or I'm likely to just forget myself and drop you," he mutters playfully.

Oh shit. I am _never _living this one down.

Jason uses his boot to kick open the front door of Sam Merlotte's bar and restaurant. The rickety screen door swings wildly open, making a jarring noise when it slams against a back wall. The Southerner walks into the bar, me still in his arms, and I swear the entire place goes silent. Silent except for a certain Bostonian who loses her shit.

When Faith sees me being carried into the bar by this guy – me still only dressed in a sports bra and short running shorts – she drops her fork noisily on a porcelain plate piled high with pancakes and syrup. Mmm…pancakes.

"What the _fuck _are you doing?" she bellows out. She stands up so quickly, she knocks over the chair on which she had been sitting. Faith's dark eyes are filled with anger and something that resembles a primal possessiveness. Her hands clench at her sides, the knuckles going stark white.

Jason looks startled by Faith's violent outburst, so I try to appease her to avoid an even bigger scene. If Jason carrying me into Merlotte's hadn't already caught their attention, the Boston girl's explosion has. This is his hometown, after all, and the restaurant bar is filled with his friends and family. If Faith tries to start a fight, she'll be taking on the entire county, no doubt.

"Faith," I sigh tiredly, "I hurt my knee running and couldn't find my room key. You weren't there, so Jason's just being helpful. It hurt too much to walk here on my own," I insist, even though I know how intimate it must look with me in his arms. "Now will you please pay your bill and help me back to the room?" I beg.

I see her eyes flick down to my knee. It's starting to swell already, and I'm sure the steadily rising heat of the morning isn't helping at all. "Sure thing, B," she mumbles with surprising obedience. She wipes at her mouth with a paper napkin and tosses a ten-dollar bill on her table, leaving her breakfast behind.

"I'll carry her back to the motel," Jason announces as Faith walks over to us. "Don't you worry about a thing."

Faith's mouth opens as if she's going to challenge him again, but she quickly bites her tongue. She doesn't know the extent of my injuries and knows it would do no good if I had to walk all the way back to our room. I can tell that she's lamenting no longer having her powers. She almost looks disappointed that she can't carry me back herself. She _would be_ upset not being able to embarrass me like that.

And I can't help the slight blush that creeps onto my cheeks at the thought of Faith carrying me into our motel room. I'd be lying if I said the imagery of that won't fuel my future solo-sessions.

When Jason pushes out of the bar's screen door and back into the sunshine, the wolf whistles and catcalls begin. "Jason Stackhouse, you old dog, you," I hear from a nearly toothless man on his way up the wooden porch to Merlotte's. "You don't waste any time do ya?"

I can hear Faith's heavy boots close behind. "Mind your own business, ya snaggle-toothed hick," she snaps. "She hurt her knee. That's all."

"Faith!" I hiss unpleasantly at the younger girl. "Stop being a bitch to the locals."

Faith catches up to us and gives me a guilty look. "Just defending your honor, B," she mumbles, scuffing her boots in the dirt. "Guess all this Southern manners crap is contagious."

After what seems like an eternity, Jason finally reaches the motel and gingerly puts me down at our front stoop. Faith rushes to my side and helps me hobble into the room at last. I turn to thank Jason one more time, and he's still got that goofy grin on his lips.

"Thank you again, Jason, for everything," I warmly gush.

"Well if ya'll need me," he says, "I'll just be over at Merlotte's until my shift with the road crew starts in a few hours," he beams.

I can't miss the glare in Faith's eyes. "Thanks a bunch, Jason," she smiles saccharinely sweet. "But I'll make sure Buffy gets everything she needs from now on."

The surprised look on Jason's face just before Faith slams the motel door is priceless.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

"This could only happen to you, you know." Faith's voice echoes in the bathroom as she helps me stand up. Her arm is around my waist as I bend over and take off my running shoes. She doesn't seem to mind that my proximity is getting mud on her clothes.

I frown and tug at my socks after tossing the muddy shoes into a corner. "It's not like I _purposefully_ looked for an alligator or something," I grunt. "I don't have a death wish."

My slaying partner chuckles, and I can feel her body vibrate beside me. "Coulda fooled me, Twinkie." She raises her eyebrows as she watches me continue to struggle with my ankle-length socks. "Need a little help there?"

"Hard to –," I huff, continuing to yank on the stubborn clothing, "get these off with only one good knee."

She snickers and I feel her hands go to my hips. "Pop a squat, Blondie," she instructs. "Let me help you or this is gonna take all day. We need to get over to the auto shop," she reminds me, "and you seriously need a shower. Mud-monster is _not_ a good look for you."

I allow her to help me sit on the toilet with minimal pouting, and she squats down in front of me to remove my socks. I try not to think about how close we are in this small bathroom and how little clothing I've got on. Working out has always made my body respond a little like Slaying does. And I never got those pancakes I had been eyeballing at Merlotte's. My body is rumbling in all kinds of awkward and inappropriate ways.

A thought must have suddenly popped into her head because she's got that infamous devil-smile on her lips. "How you plannin' on showering with one good leg?" she asks with a sly grin.

My eyes go wide and my jaw slackens. I swallow hard and try to erase the imagery that immediately pops into my head. Not that the mental image of Faith in the shower with me is unwelcome, but it's a little unnerving when her body is so close to mine. For once I'm thankful that our Slayer senses have been dulled, otherwise I'm sure she'd be able to smell my arousal.

"I'll take a bath," I squeak. _Nice, Buffy. Real smooth_.

She stands up, and her eyes roam over my half-naked body. I've still got my sports bra and shorts on, but there's no way I'm removing them with her still in the room. And there's no way I'm letting her help me remove them either. I lean toward the bathtub and turn on the faucet, hoping she'll take the hint and leave.

"Well," she winks as she moves towards the bathroom door, "if ya need help scrubbin' your back, give me a holler. I'll just be in the next room."

The rushing hot water begins to steam up the mirror over the bathroom sink. I peel off the now-crusty sports bra and wiggle my way out of my running shorts to slide into the tub as gracefully as my twisted knee will allow. The heat is going to do nothing for the swelling, and I know I'll have to ice it later, but for now I just enjoy the warmth that envelopes my body as the tub fills higher with hot water.

I close my eyes and lean my back against the far end of the tub, away from the faucet. Luckily I'm short, so I usually never have any problem finding a bathtub that my reclining body will fit into. I turn off the water when the water level is high enough that it covers most of my body. Only the tips of my breasts poke out the top of the water, but the air is humid enough that my nipples don't seem to mind.

It's been a while since I've done anything about that familiar ache between my thighs. The only real privacy I've gotten on this Road Trip from Hell is when I shower. I've never been able to orgasm standing up, however, and the thought of lying down in the tub while the shower is on just feels wrong. Plus, with my luck, I'd probably drown.

"_She drowned in the shower?" _everyone would ask in disbelief. _"Don't you mean bathtub?" _

"_Oh, no," _the coroner would say, shaking his head. _"Definitely the shower."_

This is the first time I've had an excuse to take a bath, and my body can't seem to help itself, now that I've been given this opportunity. My hands stroke along my upper torso, feeling the shape and slight weight of my modest breasts. I sigh quietly. My flesh feels warm. Sure it took almost being dismembered by an alligator to get some alone time, but since when have I ever complained?

I think briefly of my Southern rescuer, Jason. He reminds me a little of Spike, actually. Different accents. Different species. But very similar bodies. Thinking of Jason somehow makes me think about the peculiar waitress, Sookie. There's definitely something a little…different about her.

I allow myself to think of Sookie for a moment. Her face is a little rounder, slightly paler than her brother's. Her red mouth looks plump and inviting whereas Jason's lips form a hardened line. Their mouths, in fact, seem like microcosms of the difference between men and women's bodies themselves.

I try to focus back on Jason as I stroke my palms down my to abdomen, but my mind continually floats back to Sookie. Sookie. Sookie Stackhouse. Such a strange name. Her name feels almost like 'Satsu' as I let it quietly roll off my tongue.

Satsu. We only had sex twice, and then I ended it. It wasn't because she wasn't good in bed. It wasn't because I didn't thoroughly enjoy myself, either. But, I knew I didn't love her – not like she loved me – and I couldn't let her hurt like that. I've led on too many partners in the past.

A disgruntled sound escapes my mouth when I realize I should probably hurry up or Faith's going to think I've really drowned in here. Faith. _Oh God_. A ripple of pleasure suddenly vibrates down my body. That did it.

I close my eyes and remember the way her strong hands had felt so steady and sure on my hips when she helped remove my socks just a few minutes earlier. I imagine those same hands confidently roaming over my body. Faith does everything with confidence, so why would this be any different? I know I should feel embarrassed for using her as mental candy, but it seems to be working. _Really_ working. My skin feels flushed, more so than just the effects of the warm bathwater.

My left hand dips under the warm water and glides down my smooth abdomen. I can feel my hipbone slice into my palm as my hand travels further south. My fingers curl along the inside of my slightly muscled thigh and the tops of my fingers just slightly brush against my closely trimmed curls.

My stomach clenches when I brush my fingertips along the outside of my clit, and I can almost see the tiny abdominal muscles twitching under the water. My eyes flutter close once again and I try to imagine how Faith would touch me. Would her fingers feel light and delicate? Would she take her time and torment and tease me? Or would she be wild and ravenous, consuming me and burning me like liquid fire?

I imagine her kneeling outside of the bathtub, innocently helping me because of my injured knee. My hand has become her hand. She's washing me with a bar of motel soap and a slight, milky film coats the top of the bathwater. She can't see what she's doing, or where the soap is specifically cleaning, and she accidentally bumps her fingers into my clit. She would be embarrassed or oblivious to what had happened, but I'd secretly be pining for her fingers to slip around even more. Why can't it be _her _fingers now stroking along my sensitive clit? Why can't it be _her_ hand parting my pussy lips?

I bite my bottom lip to stifle the moan that stumbles up my throat when I press against my clit again, harder this time. I rub the fleshy nub around and around in tiny clockwise circles and a sharp wave of pleasure stabs my insides. My fingers drift further south and I can feel my wetness accumulating on my slit even though my lower torso is completely submerged in bathwater.

A sparse covering of thin hair covers my slit and I brush my fingertips against the coarse hair. I haven't had the opportunity to shave (or really a reason to) in a few weeks; my pussy feels almost foreign to me. As I continue to slowly stroke my fingertips along my down-covered slit, I wonder if Faith shaves. Maybe she does, but like me, she hasn't had a reason to in a while.

I increase the pressure on my sex, starting to dip into my hot little hole. My knees fall to the sides, bumping into the inner walls of the bathtub. The water slightly sloshes around, crashing into my sensitive sex. A quiet whimper escapes from my slightly parted mouth. I don't worry about Faith overhearing me because I image she would assume I just tweaked my knee rather than my clit.

My eyes flick over to the door and focus on the doorknob. _"Shit," _I lament to myself. _"The door's not locked." _The thought momentarily sends me into a panic, and my wandering hands stop wandering. Faith could walk in on me at any moment and catch me.

But the more I let that thought and that image swim in my already lust-ridden head, the more turned on I become. _"Uhn, she could walk in on me."_

The scene that forms in my head looks like the beginning of a cheesy porno. _"Need some help with that, B?" _she would smile lecherously at me as she peeked around the slightly opened bathroom door. _"Need an extra hand?"_

I know my thighs would quickly clamp together and my face would burn a million shades of red, embarrassed to have been caught like that. I'd try to cover my body as best as I could. But my body would be begging for her to jump into the bathtub, clothes and all. My body would demand that she use her knee to part my thighs, injured leg be-damned. I would uselessly protest, vainly insisting that it wasn't what I wanted. But she would take control, take the lead, and take me.

Water would slosh around, spilling onto the linoleum floor, but I wouldn't care. With the weight of her knee behind her hand, Faith would fuck me with her fingers until my eyeballs rolled back into my head. As I slide my own digits inside my wet cunt, I image they're her persistent fingers, filling me like no one else has done before. My body would finally surrender itself to Faith and the thick tension that has always existed between us.

But I know my brain wouldn't allow it. My brain and my body would be screaming different demands. After all, Buffy Summers doesn't do those kinds of things.

When I finally emerge from the bathroom, all pink and freshly scrubbed, Faith is sleeping on the bed, on top of the covers. I hazard a quick look at the clock radio, but sigh when I see it's only barely 10:00am. This girl is the Queen of Naps. She puts three-year-olds to shame.

Taking advantage of Faith's sleeping state (no, not like that!), I drop my towel and pull on some clean undergarments, a tank top, and a cotton skirt that reaches just above my knees. The thought of having to squeeze my swollen knee into a pair of skinny jeans makes my insides squirm, so I choose something a little breezier.

Faith wakes up as I'm pulling my damp hair into a tight bun, and she looks at the bedside alarm clock. "That was quick," she remarks, yawning and stretching a little on the bed. "Thought you'd be in there at least another hour."

"It doesn't take me _that _long to get ready," I protest, turning towards her. "I see it didn't take _you_ long to fall back asleep though."

The brunette girl sits up in bed and ruffles her sleep-wild hair. "Didn't sleep well last night," she admits with a lazy shrug. "S'not my fault you snore like a semi-truck down-shiftin'."

"I do _not _snore," I protest, folding my arms across my top in what I hope is an angry posture.

Faith raises her eyebrows at me comically. "Got anyone else you can survey?" she asks. "Anyone else you been sharin' a bedroom with lately?"

I can feel my face go red, but I hope she'll think I'm still just flushed from the hot bath. "Let's just go see the mechanic," I mutter between clenched teeth. "The sooner we talk to him, the sooner we can get back on the road."

She pops up from the bed and saunters toward me. Her dark brown eyes look a little wild as they scan my body for the second time that day. Well, maybe they're scanning me, or maybe it's just wishful thinking. My eyes flutter close.

Her hands rest on my hips and I feel her warm breath bursting on my sensitive neck. A small sigh pushes past my teeth and slightly parted mouth, and I let my head fall to the side, granting her easier access to my neck. I can feel her lips barely brush against my neck. They're warm and surprisingly soft. Her breath fills my nostrils. She smells sweet as though she just brushed her teeth or has been chewing mint gum. I open my eyes.

Faith is staring at me with a perplexed look on her face. "Where did you just go?" she asks me with an amused smile.

I blink hard a few times. "Uh, what?"

Her smirk grows into a full-wattage grin. "Your eyes closed and you started breathing funny," she tells me. "Are you okay?"

I swallow hard. Good lord. I need to get out of this motel room. But more importantly, I need to get laid.

Luckily, the mechanic's shop isn't too far from the bar and our motel. Maybe my luck is starting to turn around. Or not.

Faith and I swagger into McFarlen's body shop (well, she swaggers and I kind of limp), around lunchtime. The store's proprietor sits behind an old metal desk and leans back in his office chair. On his desk are an open can of tobacco, a half-eaten sandwich wrapped in wax paper, and a can of soda.

"You two must be the girls that belong to that silver Honda out there," he states when we walk into the main office.

"I'm guessing you don't see too many unfamiliar faces in this town," I smile warmly. Don't judge. I'll charm the pants off this guy if it gets us out of Bon Temps sooner. Well, not literally. I _do _have _some _standards.

The mechanic sucks on his top teeth. "Not durin' the day at least."

Faith lowers her voice conspiratorially. "You mean _vampires_, don't you?" she asks. "Does Bon Temp have a lot of resident vamps?"

Mr. McFarlen takes a bite from his half-finished sandwich. "None of my business," he mumbles around the bits of bread and lunch meat. Apparently our mechanic is a man of few words.

I give him what I hope is a cheerful and not manic smile. "So what's the prognosis, doc?" I bubble. "What's wrong with our car?"

The auto shop owner picks at his oil-smudged cuticles. "Fuel pump fell off," he grunts. "Gotta get a new one."

I feel a sharp stab in my side when Faith jabs her elbow into my lower ribs. "See?" she beams proudly. "I _knew _I was right."

I rub a little at my side. Damn, her elbows are sharp. Or else I just keep getting weaker. "Well that sounds easy enough," I say to the mechanic. "Think you can have it fixed by the end of the day?"

Mr. McFarlen leans forward in the chair so all four legs are back on the floor. "I reckon, it's gonna be a bit longer than that," he tells us as he scratches his distended abdomen. "I don't have the right parts for this new of a model. Had to order 'em. You see, today's Friday and we're closed over the weekend," he explains. "I won't get the parts in from Shreveport until Monday."

The prospect of staying in this town over the weekend makes my heart sink a little. We had been doing so well crossing the globe, it seems ridiculous to be detoured so close to New Orleans. "Can't we just order a rental car?" I suggest. "Hertz or something? Don't they come pick you up?"

The mechanic thoughtfully rubs at the stubble on his chin. "I think there's a place in Shreveport, maybe."

I sigh heavily and lean my weight on my one good leg. "Why couldn't our car have broken down in Shreveport?" I mutter dejectedly.

"Is there _anyway _we can get outta Bon Temps by tomorrow?" Faith asks, her voice nearing desperation. "Taxi? Bus? Flying carpet?"

The mechanic picks up the empty soda can from his desk and spits tobacco juice into the container. "I don't know what to tell ya, Miss. But it looks like you girls are gonna be here in Bon Temps for at least a few more days."

"Fuck, I don't care if these ribs go straight to my thighs," Faith exclaims as she immediately digs into the barbequed rack of pork that Sookie sets down in front of her. I smile politely when she hands me my cobb salad.

After lounging around the room all afternoon, we decided to have dinner at Merlotte's. With my knee banged up, it's not like we were gonna have a nice long stroll, exploring the other parts of this town – if there even _is _another part of this town.

"I hope Sam's motel is treatin' ya'll right," our bubbly waitress says with a grin. "You two gettin' your car fixed soon?"

I nod when it's clear that Faith is in no mood for conversation. She's already elbow deep in ribs and BBQ sauce. "Yeah," I reply. "Mr. McFarlen said we'll be on our way early next week."

The screen door of Merlotte's opens, and Bill the vampire floats into the room. He gives his waitress girlfriend a curt nod and settles down at the same booth as the previous night. I feel that nagging itch at the base of my spine, but hope that my face doesn't give myself away. Sookie looks nervously between Faith and myself, as if gauging our reaction to his entrance.

"Don't worry, Sookie," I reassure her, recognizing the anxiety in her eyes. "As long as Bill's not ordering off the menu, we're not going to confront him."

Sookie gives me a weird kind of smile. Her lips go really tight across her pretty face as if she's nervous about something. "No offense, Buffy," she says in that thick Southern accent, "but it's not _Bill _I'm worried about. It's _you_. I just don't like to think how he might react if he ever finds out what you girls do for a living."

Faith sucks the barbeque sauce off a bone noisily. "Not much of a livin' anymore, sweetheart."

I take another sip of my sweet tea and try to ignore Faith. When she eats meat, it's like this whole big carnivore production. I swear I've seen animals at the zoo eat with more dignity. "Then I guess for everyone's sake," I say to Sookie, "he shouldn't find out."

"Don't worry, Buffy. It's certainly not my business to be blabbin' people's secrets." Sookie pulls her fingers across her lips as if zipping up her mouth. "I'll bring ya'll back some Wet-Naps," she grins when she looks over at Faith. The brunette's mouth is completely covered in sauce. "Our cook, Lafayette…his ribs tend to get a little messy." The blonde waitress gives us a curt nod and moves to tend to another table.

"Were you born in a barn?" I ask the girl sitting across the table when Sookie is out of earshot.

Faith pauses her feeding-frenzy long enough to raise an eyebrow at me. "No, but I have a feeling half of this town's residents _live _in one."

She runs her fingers along the outer corners of her thick lips and sucks the tips into her mouth. The way her dangerous mouth curves around her fingers makes me involuntarily shudder. "You okay there, B?" she asks, the concern apparent in her deep chocolate eyes. "You're lookin' kinda weird."

"J-Just hungry, I guess," I managed to stutter out, quickly looking down at my salad. I thought that my solo session in the tub earlier would have quieted my libido, but if anything, it only made it angrier.

Here," she states, pushing a single rib in my direction. "You gotta try this sauce. It's wicked."

I accept the rib, holding it daintily between my fingers. The thick reddish-brown sauce looks messy, but delicious. I slowly reach my lips out to meet the rib and hear the woman across the table snicker. "Oh hell no, B," Faith rasps. "If you're gonna pussy-foot your way around that bone, give it back to me."

"No!" I exclaim, pulling the bone closer to me. "You gave it to me and now it's mine."

The Boston girl gives me one of those low, hearty chuckles. You know what I'm talking about – the kind that you feel vibrate up your spine.

I look up from the table when I feel the presence of someone looming over our table. It's Sookie again with Wet Naps. She opens her mouth to say something, but is interrupted by a shrill scream coming from out back.

Faith and I are immediately to our feet and, without thinking, we hustle through the back service entrance into the back lot. A thickly muscled black man with heavy eyeliner, lip-gloss, soiled apron, and a kilt is staring dumbly at a large dumpster.

"What the fuck, dude?" Faith demands, her hands on her hips.

The bar's patrons empty into the back lot as well, everyone curious to know what caused the outburst. Sam, the bar's owner, pushes past the gathering crowd up to the man. "Lafayette," he blusters. "What in God's name is goin' on out here?"

The bar cook's heavily mascara'd eyes are wide open as he continues to stare at the large metal container. "In-in there," he finally stutters in a deep voice.

Sam gives his employee an exasperated look, but pushes toward the dumpster. He gasps when he flips up the large plastic lid. A strangled cry comes from the curious bar patrons as well. Lying on top of the neat pile of garbage bags is a short, black woman. Her black hair is cropped close to her head. Her dark eyes are wide open, her painted mouth open as well in a silent scream. And a gaping hole resides in her chest where her heart should be.

I hear Sam swear under his breath and he yells at one of his line cooks to call the police. The gasps and cries of horror sound muffled in my ears as I stare at the dead woman. And I suddenly realize _I've seen this before._

"Faith." I pull the younger woman to the side, but no one seems to notice us with all the excitement in the bar parking lot. "I've seen this before."

"You know what did this?" she mutters quietly. My body feels cold, and I can feel the proximity of her own form radiating heat.

I shake my head slightly. "I'm not sure. But back in Sunnydale there were a group of demons called the Gentlemen," I murmur quietly. "And they stole people's hearts just like this."

Faith stares hard at the corpse as some of the locals drag it out of the oversized green dumpster. "Wicked," she mutters, unable to tear her eyes away.

I look back towards the poor woman and the gaping hole in her chest. Her face is contorted into a silent scream. "Actually, it looked a little…erm…cleaner…when the Gentlemen did it," I remark.

I can still see all those dead bodies in my mind as clear as a photograph. I always remember the people I couldn't get to in time. "Something else must have done this, though," I continue. "The Gentlemen used medical tools." I nod toward the woman, now lying on the dusty ground. "That looks more like a Mortal Combat wound."

"Well, good thing they've got a Cracker Jack police squad to figure this out," Faith deadpans. "Cause we're outta here Monday…." She makes a face. "Tuesday at the latest."

I can feel my bottom lip starting to stick out. Don't blame me; I have no control over my pout. "Faith…" There's even a little whine to my tone.

"Hell no," she protests, as if she knows exactly what I'm thinking. Her hands move up in front of her body like she's trying to deflect my words. "We're outta here as soon as our car's fixed."

I flick my eyes away from the dead body and back to her face. "Faith," I continue to plead, "we've got to stay and help these people."

"Are you crazy?" she exclaims in a hushed tone. She grabs me briskly by the elbow and begins to lead me away from the bar. "What can _we _do, Buffy?" she demands. "We don't have super powers anymore," she reminds me.

"We've got a job to do in New Orleans, and we're all on our own down here," Faith continues. "I'm sure the police can take care of this on their own," she tries to convince me. "And who knows if a _demon _even did this. This could be the work of some backwater hick, for all we know." Faith lightly nudges my bandaged knee with the toe of her boot. "Plus, don't forget about your bum wheel."

I shake my head at her. She's made a lot of good points, but I'm awfully stubborn. "We can't just leave them, Faith," I insist obstinately.

I know she's right that we should be getting to New Orleans as soon as we can. Plus I'm not exactly mobile girl right now. _But I really need a win_. We've been running from Twilight for so long, our forces getting cut down from all sides, that I'm desperate to feel like I'm helping someone, even if it's just the townsfolk of Bon Temps, Louisiana.

I don't verbalize my thoughts, but I think she recognizes the look on my face. She's aching for a victory as well.

"Alright," she mumbles reluctantly. "We stay."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

The wind howls outside, banging branches sharply against the windows of our motel room. "Damn," Faith comments, turning the volume of the television set lower, "You hear that out there?"

I look up from my _US Weekly_ and listen hard outside. "Mmhm," I murmur, "it sounds like Scotland out there."

Faith looks momentarily thoughtful. I rarely mention that part of my life when I'm around her. I guess I hate dragging up memories from a time when we weren't so chummy. "I didn't realize Scotland was windy," she remarks from the bed.

I'm sitting at the desk and chair adjacent to the bed. My eyes scan over the glossy magazine page. Apparently Madonna just 'came out' as a vampire. I _knew _she aged far too well to be human. "It's not," I comment, not bothering to look up from the gossip column. "But they have hordes of banshees."

I hear the sheets rustling and I sense Faith has sat up straighter in bed. "Do you think…" She pauses and the tone in her voice makes me put my magazine down. "Do you think that the other creepy-crawlies out there are gonna reveal themselves now?"

"You mean because it's gone so well for the Vampires?" I ask.

Faith moves again and the crisp cotton sheet falls further down her torso. She's got on a white a-frame tank top and boi-cut briefs. Despite the storm raging outside, the night air is stifling. I know that she's only wearing that much clothing for my benefit, but it still reveals plenty to make my thoughts inappropriately wander.

She nods affirming my question. "Yeah, I mean vamps are gonna get the Vote and be able to marry humans and get their own talk shows," she points out. Our education of the Vampire Equality Act has been thorough since being in Bon Temps. It seems like Vampire news is the only thing on the television lately. "Why wouldn't any other kind of demon wanna reveal its existence?"

I purse my lips together, deep in thought, which Faith apparently finds funny. "What?" I demand self-consciously when I see the laugh on her lips.

She shakes her head. "Nothing, cutie. You were just thinkin' so hard, I swear your hair was changin' colors."

I absent-mindedly touch my fingers to my scalp. Maybe it's time to go a different color. It _would _help disguise me better from Twilight's goons, I bet; but I've been blonde for so long, it might be too traumatic of a change. "Stop it," I complain, sticking out my tongue. "I was just thinking you brought up a good question. If vampires keep being so fashionable, why wouldn't, like, a Mok'tagar demon try to cash in on that?"

"Cause they're wicked ugly?" Faith interjects with all seriousness. She shrugs. "The world might be able to accept Vampires because they're all dark and sexy, but humans ain't so kind to ugly ducklings."

"You think vampires are dark and sexy?" I smirk.

Faith snorts. "Dude. Don't even go there," she retorts. "You're the one with the fetish, not me."

I cross my arms stubbornly across my chest. "That's not fair," I say. "It's been a long time since that happened. I've moved on to much warmer and more alive people since then."

My word choice doesn't go unnoticed. Faith's eyebrows disappear into her hairline. "_People?"_

I furrow my eyebrows together. Goddamn me and my honesty. "Well, I guess 'person' would be more accurate," I begrudgingly admit.

Faith leans forward eagerly, a wide grin on her face. "So this is it, huh?" she declares. I give her a puzzled look and she smiles. "This is the moment we become friends and share our deepest secrets while we braid each other's hair?" she clarifies.

"_You _know how to braid?" I automatically shoot out.

"Fuck, no," she exclaims. "But that's not the point. Stop tryin' to distract me, Twinkie. We're just gettin' to the good part."

I give her my grumpiest face. "We should get to sleep," I insist. "We've got a big day of investigating tomorrow." If she's going to make fun of me, there's _no way _I'm telling her about Satsu.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist," Faith light-heartedly states. "I was just sayin' I think it's cool we're being really adult spending all this time together."

"You mean you're surprised you haven't tried to drown me yet?" I quip. The words come out harsher than I had intended.

"And surprised you haven't gutted me either," she quickly adds, not letting me forget that I'm not without sin.

I sigh and rub at my temples. This always happens when we try to talk about anything besides slaying…or the weather. The past just continues to blow up in our faces.

A loud crack interrupts our conversation. My roommate looks frantically around the room for the source of the noise. "I think it was the window," I state, pointing in the direction of the windowpane facing the parking lot.

Faith throws the covers off her legs and pads over to that side of the room. She pulls the blinds open slightly and makes a face. "Yup," she announces, tapping lightly on the glass pane. "A tree branch must've smacked it pretty hard. The fucker's totally cracked."

She inspects the window closer. "It looks like we should be okay for the night though as long as no bodies come crashin' into here." Faith turns and gives me a wink. "So don't be getting' any funny ideas, Blondie."

"We should tell Sam about the window in the morning," I note.

Faith nods and continues to look out the window. "Speaking of Sam…" the brunette murmurs, still staring at something. "Why is he running around naked outside?"

"Naked?" I sit up straighter in my chair and try to remember what Sam's body looks like. Is he someone I'd like to see naked?

"Uh, huh," she comments, finally turning away from the window. "Just saw him run into his trailer over there totally buck naked."

"Walk of shame, you think?" I suggest, relieved that the spotlight has momentarily moved off of me. "Or more accurately, the sprint of shame?"

Faith shrugs and moves away from the cracked window after she closes the blinds again. "Dunno. But boy's got a nice ass though."

I turn my eyes back to my gossip magazine, hoping that Faith will have forgotten the trajectory of our previous conversation. After all, a Full Moon is far more interesting than my lack of love life. My eyes flip back up at her when I hear a small gasp coming from her direction.

"Wow, B," she exclaims. "You've really let yourself go. Look at how fat your knee is."

I give my sister-Slayer a horrified look and then quickly move my eyes down to my bare legs. With the sweltering humidity, I had to retire my flannel penguin pajama pants for at least one night and am in a simple pair of running shorts instead. Nothing looks amiss, however, beyond my injured knee, which is now a deep, bluish tint. I can hardly wait for it to turn purple and yellow, so it looks like I've got gangrene.

"You idiot," I mumble, more at myself than the other slayer. "It's just cause my knee's swollen. I'm not fat." I look up suddenly at Faith again. "Do you _really_ think I've let myself go?" I worry aloud.

I hear the faintest of snickers fall from her barely parted lips. "Don't worry, sunshine," she purrs, as she walks back to the double mattress. "Your bod's still rockin'."

"How _is_ your knee doin', by the way?" she asks, sliding back under the crisp motel sheets. She rearranges the pillows to cradle her back. "Cause it looks wicked painful. Maybe you should go to the doctor or something."

"Yeah…the doctor," I complain aloud. "With what money? It's not like we have health insurance," I point out sourly. Plus I don't need to point out my aversion to hospitals. It's a trait that she and I both share.

I reluctantly stand up from the small bedside table to climb into bed as well. I'm not used to these kinds of injuries lingering for so long. Normal bumps and bruises used to fade by the following morning. I'm not even thirty, and I'm already feeling the aches and pains of age. Guess that's what happens when you lose your super powers.

I still can't put all my weight on my knee, but at least I don't need a wheelchair or crutches to get around as long as we're not doing much heavy hiking. Tomorrow might be another story though; I've really just stayed in the vicinity since hurting it, but tin the morning we may have to venture out more to investigate this evening's murder. I'm sure Faith would get a kick out of wheeling my ass around town though, if given the opportunity.

Faith chuckles and turns off the bedside table as I gingerly climb into bed beside her. "Guess we'll just have to move to Canada," she grins.

"How you figure that?" I ask, squiggling around to get comfortable on the rigid mattress.

"You know… they've got Universal Health care there." She gives me a sly smile. "And then you and Satsu could get married, too."

I nearly swallow my tongue. "What?" I manage to sputter out, sitting up in bed and staring at her with a horrified look.

"Oh please, B. Don't play coy with me," Faith chuckles. "You don't honestly think that wasn't the _first thing_ I learned when I came back to help out the Super Team." She snickers wickedly. "It wasn't 'Hey Faith, let's talk about Twilight' when I got there. Oh, no. Your friends _couldn't_ _wait _to tell me how you and that Asian chick got down and dirty."

I have no words. There are no words. _Why can't I think of anything to say back?_

"So did you like it?" Faith gives me a lecherous smile and I think briefly of the Big Bad Wolf. _What big Teeth you have, Grandma._

I turn in bed, flopping on my stomach and bury my face in the pillow, hiding from her as best as I can. "I'm not talking to you about this." My voice comes out muffled, but I don't care.

"Oh, c'mon, B! You gotta spill," she gushes. I feel her shove me slightly in bed, trying to garner some kind of reaction from me, but I'm not budging. "I'm dying to know," she continues to prod. "Does this mean you're all down with the girlie lovin' now? Gonna wave a flag in the gay parade?"

I look up from the pillow and suck in a deep breath of humid night air. "I'm not gay," I protest curtly.

"Uh huh. Sure," she murmurs, and I can tell she's not buying it. "Think you'll do it again?"

"Good night, Faith," I grumble, wanting to brush this entire conversation under the rug or make one of us magically disappear. Preferably Faith.

"Awwww. Don't be such a spoil-sport, B," she complains with a huff.

"_Good night_, Faith." I repeat. This time my voice is a little louder, a littler sterner.

I hear her grunt beside me and retreat. She turns on her side so she's facing the wall rather than me. When I finally close my eyes and sink deeper into the pillow, only one thought is in my head. We've spent far too much time cramped together in this motel room. Something's gotta give.

The next morning, the two of us get ready for the day in relative silence. The plan is to have breakfast first, and then we'll somehow investigate that woman's death. I wasn't exactly sure how that was going to happen, but I'd worry about that after our meal.

True to form, Faith pranced around after her shower without even the courtesy of putting a towel around her body. Maybe she was trying to prove to me, herself, or both of us, that my recent foray into the Sapphic side of life didn't rattle her. Or maybe she was just trying to egg me on with all that ample slayer-flesh to do something I'd been dreaming about for far too long.

We walk over to Merlotte's because Faith promised me their cornbread pancakes were worth the pain of me hobbling across the dusty, gravel parking lot. When we stroll through the front screen door of the bar and restaurant, a flash of familiar blonde hair makes me stop in my tracks.

"Sookie? Do you live here or something?" I call out with a small smile.

The blonde waitress looks up from her seat at a round table in the center of the nearly empty bar and a slight pink blush curls onto her bronzed cheeks. "Naw, today's my day off," she breezes. "Must look mighty pathetic though, comin' in when I don't have to. I swear I've got a proper home and all that; I really don't live at the bar," she laughs. She motions for us to join her at the empty table, and Faith and I take a seat at the large table.

Faith picks up a laminated menu and her eyes scan its contents. "Is the breakfast here that good that you came in for it?" she asks.

"As good as breakfast in a bar can be," Sookie shrugs. "I'd recommend the, uh, Bloody Mary's though." A funny smile flutters onto her pink lips. "Ain't that a strange name for a drink? Kinda ironic nowadays I suppose," she thinks aloud. "Maybe they'll have to change the name or somethin' to be sympathetic to vampires. 'Tomato Mary's' maybe," she giggles.

"So if you're not here for the food, why _are_ you here?" I ask, hoping I don't sound too rude.

"Uh, just kinda…listenin' in on people?" she squeaks uncomfortably. "I'm meeting up with Bill later, but I came in this morning to kinda poke around. You know, because of what happened last night with that poor woman in the dumpster." She shakes her head slightly and her blonde curls bounce. "Anything supernatural like that is bad news for the vamps who are trying to Mainstream," she explains.

I raise an eyebrow at the waitress. "Mainstream?"

"You know…live civilly among humans?" she clarifies for me.

"Oh," I frown. "I didn't realize there was a catch-phrase already."

Sookie cocks her head at me. "You sure don't know much about vampires for bein' a Slayer."

Faith drops her menu back on the tabletop. "What do _you _know?" Her voice is slightly challenging and I flick my eyes over to her and give her a warning look. We can't afford to make enemies with the locals.

"Well, I know that there used to be some hog-wash rumor the vampire community tried to spread when they first Came Out – something about how they weren't really dead. Just were victims of an unfortunate disease," the blonde girl notes.

Faith and I exchange a quick glance. A disease? As if.

"Some kinda pro-vampire propaganda," Sookie shrugs as she continues. "You know, to convince the more gullible folks in Middle America that they weren't actually the living dead. Honestly, when I first realized that was all just a big hoax, I seriously wondered how vampires could run around." She grins her wide smile, showing off the tiny gap between her two front teeth. "I mean, they're _dead_," she gushes. "No beating heart. No brainwaves. They heal like something crazy, too. Bill can't even get a new haircut cause it'd just grow back the way it's always been since he died."

The waitress blushes slightly for some reason. She seems far too innocent to be dating a vampire, if you ask me. "And I always wondered how they could have sex without any blood flow," she confides to us in a lower tone. "I seriously didn't know if guy vamps could, you know, _get it up_."

I blink a few times. I guess I had never even thought about the sheer physics behind that. I guess I'd always just taken for granted the fact that when Angel and Spike got excited….

"Wow," Sookie breathes from her seat next to me, pulling my attention back to her and away from my memories of past vampire lovers. "Y-you've had sex with vampires before," she exclaims in a quiet voice.

I feel my face blush bright red and I nearly fall off my chair in surprise. "How could you possibly know that?" I hiss under my breath.

Sookie ignores my question and flicks her eyes toward Faith. "You too? Is it like a Slayer thing?"

Faith snorts and holds up her hands. "Don't look at me, sweetie. It must be a blonde thing," she jokes. "I ain't never done the deed with the dead, and I'm sure as hell not plannin' on doin' it ever."

Sookie looks back at me, narrowing her eyes slightly. "So if ya'll are supposed to kill vampires," she asks in a hushed voice, "how come _you _ended up in bed with 'em?"

Faith looks like she's about to pop something in her brain, she's holding her laughter in so hard. She must be loving this, watching me squirm as this waitress digs up my limited sex life. What is with people lately wanting to know about the intimate details of my sexual escapades?

"With Spike and Angel it was totally different," I insist with a small pout. "They had souls. They were good men. Or…" I pause, '…_are_ good men." A confused look flashes on my face. "Do you talk about vampires in the past or present tense because they're technically dead?" I wonder aloud.

Now it's Sookie's turn to look perplexed. "Vampires with Souls?" She says the words slowly, rolling them around on her tongue.

I look smugly at the other blonde woman. Guess she doesn't know _everything _there is to know about vampires.

"You never answered my question before," I point out, not ready to dive into the Soul'd/Soulless conversation. After all, Spike technically didn't have a soul when we first...uhm…got together. "How did you know I had, ah, _been _with vampires?"

Sookie gives me a tight smile. "Oh, I'm just good at readin' people; that's all."

"I'm pretty good at reading people, too, you know," I say, leaning in closer to the bar employee. "And there's something different about you, Sookie. What _are_ you?"

Sookie blinks a few times. "I'm a waitress," she states simply.

"Sookie." I give her a serious look. "I need you to be straight with us. Faith and I want to help you find whatever thing tore that woman's heart out last night. And if we're gonna be helping each other out, I need to be able to trust you."

Her smile falls off her lips and she looks embarrassed. She sighs and stares down at her hands. "I'm a…a telepath."

I'm sure my face goes blank for a few seconds and my eyes blink hard, trying to register what she's just revealed. "You mean…you can read minds?" I ask, my voice full of wonder.

The blonde girl nods. "That's how I knew y'all were Slayers when Bill walked in." She chuckles under her breath. "And how I knew you'd shacked up with some characters named Angel and Spike."

"So you can read people's thoughts?" Faith asks, joining the conversation again.

The blonde waitress nods. "Depending on the person, sometimes I can read exactly what they're thinkin'. Sometimes it's like I know, word for word but other time's it's just pictures or emotions." Sookie shudders slightly in her seat. "Like when Bill walked in the other night, both you and Faith were imagining stakin' my boyfriend."

Faith snickers, but I frown guiltily at the curvy blonde. "Sorry," I apologize. "Nothing personal against you or Bill. It's just a habit I guess."

A waitress I haven't seen before brings us over waters and coffees, briefly interrupting our unorthodox conversation. We pause long enough to thank the woman and fix our hot drinks.

"How long have ya'll been Slayers?" Sookie asks when the brown-haired waitress saunters away. The change in topic quickly takes my mind away from the vivid picture of piercing Bill's blue flannel shirt with Mr. Pointy.

"A little over a decade," I say. God. When I actually say the words out loud, I feel _so old. _I take a sip from my hot coffee and set it back down on the saucer. "I was Called when I was sixteen. What about you?"

"How long have I been a telepath?" she asks, her eyebrows raised up. "All my life, I reckon. I don't really advertise what I can do though," she states in a low voice. "Most people in Bon Temps just think I'm crazy. Or psychic at best."

I nod knowingly and take another slow sip of coffee. Not too many people in this world are sympathetic to the plight of those with paranormal abilities.

"I'd like for y'all to meet Bill," Sookie announces. "If it's not too much trouble, I mean. I haven't told him anything about you, but if we're all trying to find whoever did this, it might make sense to team up. He wakes up at sunset – not that I have to tell _you _that," she laughs lightly. "How about I pick y'all up at your place before I head over to his house? I can drive."

"Sounds alright with me," Faith nods her head. She turns to me and I can feel her dark eyes waiting for my answer. "How 'bout it, B?"

My brain is swimming with all the revelations of the morning. Sookie can read minds. She knows I had sex with not just one, but _two _vampires. And I still haven't gotten those cornbread pancakes.

I swallow hard and silently nod my consent. Tonight we meet Bill the Vampire.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

At the sound of a crisp car horn, Faith jumps off the bed and jogs over to the front window. "Sookie's here," she informs me with a tight grin.

I quickly gather my jean jacket in case it's a brisk night and a purse with the essentials: hotel key, money, lip-gloss, holy water, and a wooden stake. It's not that I'm planning on killing Bill the Vampire, but I think I'd feel naked without some kind of weapon on me.

I catch Faith as she slips into her leather jacket and feels the inside lining, checking for her own hidden stake. My eyes meet hers and we share a knowing smile.

"Let's motorvate," she states, pushing open the motel door.

When I hobble outside, Faith calls 'Shotgun' and I give her a glare. Sookie's vehicle is a yellow Honda Civic that looks older than me. The tin-can vehicle is a two-door hatchback, meaning I've just gotten stuck with the tiny backseat.

"Hey ya'll," the Southerner greets us cheerily as we climb into her car. Sookie's wearing a flowered sundress and her hair is down and curly. I suddenly feel underdressed in my ponytail, tank top, and cotton skirt.

The blonde waitress babbles nervously as we drive the short distance from the motel to Bill's house. I'm not sure what to expect when we get there; I've only technically been in two vampire 'houses' unless you count all the nests that I destroyed in my Sunnydale days.

Sookie pulls the car down a dark driveway. With the full moon beaming down, the sky is fairly lit up, and I can just make out a cemetery to the right. Something about the vast field of tombstones puts me at ease. It feels like home.

When Sookie stops in front of a large house, I crane my neck to take a look at Vampire Bill's digs. The large wooden exterior is a painted white and looks as though it's coming off in large chips. The shutters are black and there's a large wrap-around porch in front. As I pull myself out of the backseat of Sookie's sardine-can-on-wheels, I can see two wooden rockers situated close to the front door.

Bill opens the front door when we're halfway up the four steps that lead to the wooden porch. The vampire is dressed unremarkably – pressed khakis and a dark green button-up shirt. He greets Sookie at the door with a kiss on the cheek and then looks warily at Faith and myself as we clamber up the stairs after her. Something in his face makes me believe that Sookie didn't warn her boyfriend she wouldn't be alone tonight.

"I see you've brought…" he pauses and grimaces at the word, "guests."

"Now, Bill," Sookie starts with a little shake of her blonde head, "I don't want you gettin' your dander up or nothin', but I brought these two girls with me to help us find whoever tore that poor woman's heart out at Merlotte's."

Bill's eyebrows rise up on his pale, unlined forehead. "Help?" His eyes scan over us and I can tell he's immediately dismissing us. I can't blame him though; even when we had super-human powers, it was always a very deceptive strength.

"I'd like to introduce you to Buffy and Faith." Sookie wrings her hands in front of her and she fiddles anxiously with the rings on her fingers. She must be contemplating the best way to reveal to Bill who we really are. Finally, her painted mouth opens. "They're…they're Slayers," she says.

If the word has any effect of Bill, then he gets an Academy Award. The man doesn't flinch or blink an eye. Then again, vampires don't really need to blink or make facial movements. They just do it to look more human.

"And how did you come across a Slayer, let alone two?" His voice is cold, but I can't tell if he's upset or if he just always sounds disappointed.

"Their car broke down and they came into Merlotte's," Sookie explains with a tight smile, "and we sort of made acquaintances."

"Uh huh." Bill's charcoal eyes quickly pass over Faith and myself a second time.

"Are you gonna keep gawking there or you gonna invite us in?" Sookie demands with a small stamp of her foot.

"Forgive me." Bill takes a few steps backwards and motions with his hands for us to enter.

Faith and I exchange a quick glance. _Like the spider inviting the fly into her home._

"Can I offer you two anything to drink?" The dark-haired man asks politely as we step beyond the threshold and into the foyer of his old home. I've never seen a vampire who actually lived in a _house_. I mean, Angel had the mansion and Spike always kept a tidy crypt, but this isn't quite what I'd ever expected from a vamp.

To the right of the foyer is the living room. Or would it be called the 'un-living' room in this case? The wood floors look original to the house, which I would guess was built before the Civil War. It's got that Big House, Plantation look to it. The furniture is older, well-worn, and the aging wallpaper looks like it could use a face-lift. Against the far wall is an impressive wood-burning fireplace complete with all the fire-making do-hickeys.

"Got any beer?" Faith asks with a cocky grin on her face. She sits down on a velvet-looking couch and I reflexively take a seat next to her.

The undead man's face remains emotionless as he stands just inside the living room. "No," he says flatly. "But I have Fresca's. I can't promise they're cold," he warns. "I don't own a refrigerator."

"Don't you need a fridge to keep all your blood chilled?" Faith asks with a raised eyebrow.

Bill's face moves for the first time, and he gives us a small smile. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised to find that you would be so educated when it comes to the lifestyle of the vampire."

Faith snorts and looks at me with a bizarre grin. "Actually," she says, "B over here is more of an expert on 'vampire lifestyles' than me."

She even does the little "air quotes" thing. Seriously.

Sookie sits down in an easy chair looking like the cat that's caught the canary. Or eaten the bird…or the worm. Bill remains standing.

The vampire turns to his girlfriend and his face looks pained as if he's angry, but trying to put on a good face in front of company. "So you obviously had something in mind, Sookie, bringing these two over here tonight."

"Actually, I _do _have a plan," the blonde woman admits. "I was thinking we could all drive over to Shreveport in your car and go to Fangtasia. Maybe Eric's got some information on this thing or knows of similar murders in the area lately."

Bill frowns and gives Faith and me a sideways glance. "Do you really think that's wise?" he states. "To bring _them _to Fangtasia?"

"William Compton," Sookie chastises. "Don't you go gettin' prejudiced on me. My new friends won't kill your friends if your friends don't try to kill them first."

"Darlin'," Bill says, trying to be charming and wipe the stern look off his girlfriend's face. Just the way he says the pet-name I can tell that this innocuous blonde has this powerful vampire wrapped around her little finger. _You go girl_. "I was just thinkin' about _their _safety is all," he insists with a pleasant smile. "I don't quite think takin' them to Fangtasia is the best idea."

I raise my hand in the air, even though I know it's not necessary. We're not in a classroom, after all. I didn't even bother to raise my hand in class anyway. I was too busy avoiding eye contact with all my teachers in case they decided to call on me and ask me questions I had no clue what the answer was.

Faith snorts beside me and gives my ribs a gentle bump with her elbow. "I think you can talk now, B," she snickers. "Or were you waitin' on the Talking Stick?"

I give the Boston girl a sour look, sticking my tongue out at her. I turn back to Sookie and Bill, however, when I'm reminded that we're not here alone and I should probably act my age. I can't help myself though. There's something about this girl that always brings out the bratty kid in me.

"Yes, Buffy?" Bill drawls, his eyebrows raised and his pale lips twisted into a curious smile. "Do you have a question?"

"What's a 'Fangtasia'?"

The ride to Shreveport is a quiet one. Bill the Vampire is a man of few words, and I suspect knowing that Faith and I are Slayers, he's not too keen on striking up a friendship as eagerly as his girlfriend. Faith and I are crammed in the backseat of the vampire's dark luxury vehicle while he and Sookie occupy the front seats. That's the thing about these fancy cars. All the leg room you could want in the front seat with no consideration for the rear passengers.

Sookie and Bill informed us that 'Fangtasia' is the name of the local vampire bar a few miles away in Shreveport, Louisiana. With the passage of some piece of legislation, vampires were allowed to own businesses. And because of their nocturnal nature, many apparently invested in bars and nightclubs. Cause seriously, could you see a vampire owning a Starbucks?

I can tell that Faith is doing her best not to act like a six-year-old on a road trip. _Are we there yet? _ She's squirming slightly in the seat next to me, no doubt itching with the knowledge that we'll soon be walking into a vampire bar with no super-human strength for protection. Plus her legs are significantly longer than mine, so that's gotta be uncomfortable too.

Sookie assured us that we'd be safe at this bar, however. Apparently, no one is allowed to bite or get bitten for any reason inside those four walls for fear of being raided by undercover police. I didn't think police would be able to do anything against feeding vampires, but then she told me that vampires have become cops, too. God, I've been abroad for _far _too long.

The black, luxury car pulls into a dimly lit parking lot. I look out the window, gathering my bearings. It looks like we're near one of those strip malls that seem to pop up whenever a Dunkin Donuts comes to town. The signs on all the buildings are dark, however. It's too late in the evening for people to get their nails done or do their laundry or get a tan. The only sign illuminated is red neon color, and the letters are a slanted kind of script. The word 'Fangtasia' leers down at us in a comical, more than a foreboding way.

Faith and I crawl out of the tiny backseat and take a moment to stretch our legs. My knee still feels sore, but I think it's starting to heal. The brunette slayer looks at me with a grim smile. "You ready for this, B?" she asks me.

"Do I have a choice?" I try to joke. The air feels oppressive like even the weather is trying to warn us not to go inside this bar.

Just outside the front entrance is the bouncer – a handsome, uber Anglo-Saxon woman. Her nose is long and straight and her features are serious. She looks like the type of woman you'd expect to see on the arm of a Baron or something, not standing outside of a bar. Her hair is a shade more platinum than even mine or Sookie's and her make-up is dark on her severely pale skin, but not out of place on her face. And the tingle at the base of my spine confirms what I've thought all along. Vampire.

"Bill," she nods at the man in front of our small group. "Sookie."

Her voice is like the smoothest velvet. Her welcoming smile twists into a wry grin when she looks beyond the two familiar faces and sees Faith and me trailing anxiously behind. The female bouncer lifts a well-plucked eyebrow at Bill. "Broadening your horizons, Bill?" she smirks.

The male vampire scowls at the woman. "Nothing so perverse as that, Pam," he responds curtly. "These are two of Sookie's friends. They're just here to see the sites," he explains without going into any detail.

The tall female looks the two of us over and my stomach flips inside my belly, sure that we'll be caught. I imagine this is how under-agers feel when they try to get into a bar with a fake I.D. After a curt nod and an audible sniff, Pam moves to the side, allowing our small group to enter the club.

"Why didn't you tell her who we _really _are?" Faith asks our male escort in a hushed voice.

Bill's lips purse. "Pam is a trustworthy vampire as far as vampire's go," he admits, "but the less of my kind who know you are Slayers the better. It will be hard enough to get the information we seek tonight without drawing suspicion to your presence."

The bar itself isn't that large. It actually looks kind of hokey, like if Disney World had been in charge of the decorating. The walls are painted red – like if you had a box of crayons and picked out the one that says 'red.' To the right is a fully stocked bar. I thought that maybe instead of beer, they'd have blood on the tapers, but I was thankfully wrong. The familiar 'Miller' and "Bud' signs are a welcomed sight.

A series of small tables litter the red indoor/outdoor carpeting. I imagine the cheap flooring makes for easy clean up. Lining the walls are occupied high-top tables and a small stage in the center of the space gives the room almost a strip-club feel. Not that I've ever been to a strip-club. Just, you know, from what I've seen in movies.

I keep waiting to feel overwhelmed by the presence of so many vampires in such a small space, but strangely enough, my vamp alarm isn't going crazy. Sookie warned us beforehand that we wouldn't be the only humans in the bar. Apparently the Shreveport watering hole is popular with both 'fangbangers' and tourists alike. Generally the only vampires actually at the bar are the employees and owners.

Many of the human patrons look like Halloween rejects with their fake plastic teeth and obvious contact lenses. And some are clearly tourists with their awful Bermuda shorts and fanny packs, taking photos of the décor and the entertainment like it's a sideshow on an exotic cruise.

"Who's the Viking?" Faith asks with a smirk, nodding toward an illuminated corner of the dim bar.

Seated at what can only be described as a _throne _is a solo, serious looking vampire. His bleached blonde hair is swept back over his ears in a kind of James Dean look. The color looks natural because his eyebrows are just as light as the hair on his head. The man's face looks bored and he stares out into the room, his eyes not really focusing on anything in particular. His broad shoulders and chest are covered in a dark shirt, and the way it shimmers in the light it looks silk. My eyes flit between Bill and this mysterious undead creature. Now _that's_ the way I'm used to vampires dressing.

"That's the owner, Eric," Sookie informs us in a low voice. "He's really the reason we came here in the first place. In the Louisiana vampire hierarchy, he's pretty high up," she says in a tight voice. "If anyone will have heard about similar murders in the area, Eric will know."

Bill gives Sookie a stern look. "We should talk to Eric now," he states. "The less amount of time we have to be here, the better."

The blonde waitress gives Faith and myself a small smile. "We'll go see if Eric has any information and then we can get outta here," she says.

Faith snarls as the happy couple saunters away. "Why the hell did they drag us here if they weren't gonna use our help?"

I put a reassuring hand on her leather-covered forearm. Even without slayer strength, the brunette has always been ready to jump into action. "C'mon, Fai," I say with a small smile. "Let me buy you a drink."

A vampire with impressive tattoos on his muscled arms wordlessly gets us our drinks when I order a Jack and Diet for Faith and some fruity concoction for myself. While we're enjoying our beverages in relative silence, Sookie comes back up to us, alone.

I look beyond her rounded shoulders and see Bill still standing by the Viking-like vampire. And he doesn't look happy at all. Not that I've seen him look happy yet, but he looks even more despondent than usual.

The blonde waitress has a tight grin on her face. I've quickly picked up that Sookie smiles like that when she's nervous and doesn't know what else to do with her face. "Eric wants to talk to ya'll," she informs us.

My brunette partner sets her half-finished drink down on the bar. "Why?" Faith asks suspiciously. "Did you tell him who we are?"

The Southern woman shakes her head. "No. But Eric has always taken an unhealthy interest in my friends. So he's um, summoned you," she says with a sour look on her face. "I gotta warn you though, he's got a bad habit of trying to thrall pretty girls."

I clamp my hand on Faith's forearm. "I can't go over there," I hiss to her under my breath.

The Boston girl turns to me with amusement on her face. "You afraid of the Big Bad Blonde?"

"I…I'm not immune to thrall," I reluctantly reveal.

Faith's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. "How do you know that?"

I feel a warm blush on my cheeks and I avert my eyes away from the intensity of her chocolate brown irises. "Because Dracula did it to me…."

Faith holds in the laughter that threatens to pour out of her mouth. "You've been holding out on me, B. I've _got _to hear that story later." She grabs my hand in hers. Her palm feels dry even though I feel sweaty. "Don't worry, Princess," she winks. "I won't let ya embarrass yourself."

"I gotta pee," I blurt out suddenly.

Faith gives me an amused look and Sookie looks impatient. "Alright," the Southerner drawls. She points to a far corner of the bar, away from the Viking-like vampire. "The Ladies' room is over there. Don't be long though," she warns. "This is gonna be awkward enough without Eric havin' to wait on your nervous bladder."

I give the waitress a curt nod and take off toward the women's restroom. I don't really have to go, but it'll give me time to collect my thoughts and ease the pit of dread in my stomach.

I turn on the cold faucet and splash my face with the chilly water. I look up at my face in the bathroom mirror and rest my hands on either side of the pedestal sink. I shouldn't be this nervous. I shouldn't feel so shaky. I've obviously faced worse situations than this, I try to remind myself.

But the last time I powerless and facing a vampire had been during the Cruciamentum. And being in this vampire bar and not having my strength is bringing up all kinds of nasty memories. I loathe feeling this weak and helpless.

I have to keep reminding myself, however, that no one here knows I'm a Slayer. And more to my advantage, no one here except Faith knows that I'm Powerless.

I look at myself once more in the bathroom mirror and take a deep breath. I guess it's now or never.

But before I can turn to exit the restroom and face what could be the embarrassment of my life (honestly, Faith doesn't need to see me under some vampire's thrall), two hands shove me from behind and my body jars painfully into the pedestal. The wind is nearly knocked out of me as my abdomen slams into the waist-high sink.

"Hey!" I yell out angrily as I regain my footing. "You could have just said _excuse me_. I was just about to leave."

A heavy boot connects with the back of my sore knee and I immediately crumble to the ground. My shoulder hits the tiled floor first and I cry out in pain. The same chunky footwear that toppled me to the ground connects with my stomach and my ribs. I feel my bones creak inside my chest, but they bend and don't break. A boot connects hard with my spine and I scream out, hoping someone will hear me over the thumping bass of the club.

I can't see who or _what_ it is. I don't even know if there's more than one of them, either. I close my eyes and reflexively position my hands and arms out in front of my body, hoping to deflect whoever/whatever is attacking. My rib cage is only momentarily safe, however, when my left arm is wretched behind me and I hear the sickening sound of tendons being pulled in an unnatural way.

Suddenly I'm off the floor and flying through the air. My body crunches against the rigid bathroom stall and I'm reminded how fragile my human body has become. I'm just an envelope of skin, filled with water balloon-like organs protected by a delicate, calcium cage. I'm effortlessly thrown time and time again against the walls like a ping-pong ball.

I feel a rough hand grab the back of my head and my attacker slams my face hard against the porcelain of the toilet seat. I can hear a loud crack, and I'm not sure if it's my skull or the toilet breaking. My eyes are filled with a white blinding light from the impact. I'm pretty sure that my cheekbone is broken. But I feel no pain. It's beyond that now.

The heavy boots continue to rain down on my battered body. I wish that whoever it is would say something, so I can at least know if I'm just a random target or if they know who I am. And then as quickly as the violence began, it stops.

I wait for the killing blow, but it doesn't come. My breath sounds hard and labored inside my ears as I struggle to push air in and out of my bruised lungs. It hits against the base of the white toilet, forming condensation on the porcelain material. The tiled floor on which I now lay feels wet against my skin, but I can't tell if it's just the floor or from my blood spilling out.

The bathroom door opens and closes a few times and suddenly Sookie is beside me. Her hands feel like they're on fire when she gingerly touches one of my arms. I'm pretty sure it's broken, and I can only hope the bone isn't sticking out of the flesh.

"Oh gosh," she says breathlessly. "I just saw inside your head. I'm _so_ sorry I didn't get here fast enough."

I hear the bathroom door open and close again, and I can feel my sister-Slayer's presence in the room. Even without powers, we still have our slayer-connection. "Who the fuck did this?" Faith's voice is beyond angry and it shakes with emotion.

"Did anyone see who came in or out of the bathroom just now?" Bill must have quickly followed the two women, scorning the women's sign on the outer bathroom door.

I hear the bathroom door open and close once again and new body rushes into the small space. "Quick. Bring her into my office," a faintly accented voice orders. It takes me a second to realize it must be the owner, Eric.

"No," Bill snarls in his deeper Southern twang. "There's no time." I can see him kneel down next to me although my eyes are barely open. He rolls me over on my back and a gush of blood spurts out between my parted lips.

I hear a horrified gasp from inside the bathroom, but I can't tell who it came from. Maybe it came from me.

Eric's fangs distend and I hear a slight hiss. "Bill," he says, "you're been holding out on me. You never told me you'd brought a _Slayer _with you. I can _smell _how delicious her blood is."

Bill gives the elder vampire a hard look. "She is a friend of Sookie's," he snaps. "Not a snack."

I look up at Bill to thank him, but the dark-haired vampire's canines distend as well. I take in a great gulping breath. I can practically feel the blood rattling around in my lungs; I've definitely got some internal bleeding. And I seriously don't want the rest of my blood to be shared between these two alpha-vamps like a juice-box.

Bill's next words are unexpected: "The only way to save you is if you drink my blood."

I choke and gargle; my tongue's not cooperating with me. _But I don't want to be a vampire! _ I scream in my head, hoping to catch Sookie's eye.

The blonde waitress clamps her hand down on Bill's wrist. "She thinks she'll become a vampire," she says for me. Her smile does nothing to warm my aching body.

"You haven't lost enough blood to be turned," Bill states. "And I haven't had any of your blood." His eyes are emotionless, but I can hear the desperation in his voice. "Drink now or you'll be dead."

Sookie looks anxiously at her boyfriend. "Are you sure there's no other way?"

"You know I'd never do it if there was another option." Their exchange strikes me as odd, but my mind is kind of preoccupied with other thoughts to dwell long on their conversation.

Bill's lips look strange and his fangs extend out of his mouth a little more. He brings his wrist to his mouth and he savagely bites himself, tearing the flesh away. Dark, almost black blood begins to seep from the wound.

The dark-haired vampire brings the open gash to my mouth. "Drink," he tells me. "Drink before the wound closes."

I feel a warm hand suddenly grasp one of my hands. It feels hot in my clammy palms, so I know it's human. I flick my eyes to the right and see Faith there beside me. Her dark eyes are filled with worry, but she gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

And that's when I drink.

The liquid is thick and cold and makes me gag slightly as it passes my lips and trickles into my mouth. Bill's hand is behind my head now, lifting me up and pressing my mouth more fully against the wound. I shut my eyes and suck hard, telling myself that it's just chocolate syrup and not vampire blood. He's groaning in a pained, yet erotic way.

"Stop or you'll fry her," I hear Eric say from somewhere in the room.

Bill pulls my head gently away from his open wrist and I'm slightly horrified at myself when my tongue sneaks out between my lips to gather just another small taste. The dark vampire rests my head back gingerly. I can feel a soft towel has been placed behind my skull to make me more comfortable.

I'm not sure what I expect to happen now. I lie quietly and wait, holding my body tense. The room is quiet as well.

I feel the presence of another body suddenly beside me on the bathroom floor. "Let yourself go," the slightly accented voice whispers roughly in my ear. I don't feel his breath on my ear and I realize it's Eric again. "Give in to the pain, and you'll be healed," he murmurs to me.

My eyelids feel like they have weights attached to them. I struggle to stay awake; struggle to keep my eyes open. But they're so heavy.

Using my last ounce of strength, I pry my closing lids apart to look at Faith. Her beautiful face is twisted in a horrified and pained expression.

And then I lose consciousness.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Buffy POV

The sound of birds chirping outside and the warm sun on my face slowly wakes me up. I stretch a little in bed, yawning loudly, pulling and twisting my extended limbs. It feels like it's going to be a nice day, and I wonder if Louisiana ever has poor weather.

I turn my head this way and that to check out my surroundings, because something feels acutely different –the sounds outside, the taste of the air – I scour my memory banks, but can't quite place where I am. I open my nostrils and breathe in. The pleasant scent of the Sookie Stackhouse waifs in the air.

And I suddenly it occurs to me that I can't see a single thing.

I blink my eyes hard a few times, but I'm still engulfed in darkness. "_I'm blind!_" my brain screams at me. I suddenly remember what happened the previous night. Meeting Bill the Vampire. Going to Shreveport to Fangtasia, the local vampire bar. Getting attacked in the women's restroom by an unknown assailant. Drinking Bill's blood.

"_I drank Bill's blood and now I'm blind!_"

I blink a little harder and my long eyelashes scrape against something. My hands immediately go to my face, and my fingers come in contact with a soft material covering my face. My body instantly relaxes, and I burst out laughing at my own unwarranted freak-out. I'm wearing a facemask. It's one of those ones that cover up just your eyes so you can sleep when you're on an international flight or when the sun is too bright.

I pull the elastic band off of my sleep-tussled hair and toss the black mask toward the bedside table. My aim is a little too good this morning though, and it hits a framed photograph, knocking it backwards. I reach over and pick it up. It's a picture of two young girls, one white, one black, and an elderly woman with a warm, wide smile and dark lively eyes.

"Good morning," a pleasant feminine voice greets me.

I flick my eyes toward the door and see Sookie walk in the bedroom, carrying a small tin tray with yellow, aging flowers painted on it. I can smell the hot, fragrant breakfast sausage even from this distance. I hastily set the framed picture back on the bedside table, embarrassed to have been caught looking at it. But at least I was alone when I had my sudden attack of blindness, I reason.

Sookie sets the unbalanced tray across my lap. On a flower-patterned plate are two eggs, sunny-side up, three sausage links, and two pieces of whole-wheat toast. There's also a hot cup of black coffee and a glass of milk. I give the blonde woman a warm smile.

"This is really great of you, Sookie. You didn't have to go to all the trouble," I insist, looking back down at the full plate. I can't help but think about my poor waistline.

"No trouble at all," she states, meeting my gracious smile. I feel the bed move slightly and look up to see her sitting down on the edge of the mattress. "Was the least I could do after what happened last night," the blonde waitress insists.

I wince, remembering again the events from the previous night. I never had the opportunity to see my attacker and a part of me suspects that Twilight had something to do with it. That guy seems to be responsible for a lot of badness that's happened to me lately.

"Is this your place?" I ask, even though I know it's a silly question. Of course it's her house.

Sookie nods. "Bill reasoned it would be best for ya'll to stay here last night rather than going back to the motel. He stayed until dawn and then had to go, you know…so he didn't explode into flames."

I look around the room really for the first time. The bedroom looks as though a teen girl occupied it. The wallpaper is subtle. Almost dainty with its tiny pink roses and winding green vines. The big window parallel to the mattress streams in a healthy amount of morning sunshine through the wispy white cotton curtains.

I'm sitting on the biggest piece of furniture in the room – a full-sized bed. A white wooden vanity table sits in one corner of the room – the kind that little girls bother their mothers to buy them for Christmas. And a small bookshelf littered with romance novels is placed near the doorway.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I've got a tray of delicious looking food across my lap. I pick up a piece of dry toast and chew on it. I do a double take. The bread tastes _amazing. _I wonder if Sookie baked it herself. I can almost taste the field that the wheat was growing in.

"And this is your room?" I ask, the words not really forming a question.

"Yeah, but don't worry about it," Sookie insists with the wave of a hand. "Gave me a good reason to finally move into Gran's room across the hallway."

"Your grandma lives here too?"

The Southern girl's face falls, and I immediately realize I've touched a tender subject when I see the watery look in her eyes. "She, uh, she passed…a few months ago," she reveals in a waivery voice.

"I'm sorry, Sookie," I apologize with a frown. "I bet you two were real close."

The Bon Temps native nods once and swallows down the lump in her throat. "Yeah. She raised me ever since I was seven. Both my parents died in a flash flood."

God. I certainly know how to cheer people up.

Sookie wipes at her eyes quickly and wipes her hands on the front of her denim shorts. They're not quite daisy dukes, but the material sits high on her thighs revealing tight, tanned legs.

"Sorry," Sookie apologizes with a smile. This girl is perpetually smiling. I don't know how she does it. "I guess I'm still not used to talkin' about Gran in the past tense," she explains. "Still pretty fresh."

I nod and look down at the plate of food that's starting to turn cold as we converse. An awkward silence falls between us. "Where's Faith?" I ask, suddenly remembering the brunette woman.

"She's downstairs," Sookie says with a lopsided grin. "She was real worried about you – not that we all weren't – but her especially. I don't think she slept all night." She nods toward an uncomfortable-looking wooden rocker in the corner. "Stayed in that chair over there all night," she tells me. "I finally dragged her downstairs an hour ago with the promise of a hot breakfast."

"That sounds like her," I snicker, willing myself to not make a big deal over Faith staying at my bedside all night. It's far too unbelievable to think about her doing such a thing, even though we've mostly forgiven each other about our shared tumultuous past. "Ditching me for food."

"How are you feeling, by the way?" the waitress asks me, cocking her head to the side.

I open my mouth to tell her about my aches and pains, but I press my lips together when I realize that would be a lie. I feel _fantastic. _In fact, I don't think I've ever felt so alive and strong in all my life, even when I had Powers. "Actually," I admit, flexing out my arms and legs again, "I feel pretty amazing." I move my legs under the covers and test out my formerly tender knee. "Even my twisted knee feels like it's gone," I remark.

Sookie nods knowingly. "I figured as much. Vamp blood is pretty strong stuff."

I lean forward slightly in bed and stare intently at the blonde woman. "What exactly did it _do_?" I ask with a curious look.

"It healed you," the waitress says simply, slightly shrugging her rounded shoulders. "Anything that was hurtin' is all fixed now. And probably even better than when ya started out."

"Is…" I hesitate, "Is there some side-effect? Am I gonna grow a tail or something?"

The Southerner chuckles. "Naw. You might glow in the dark for a bit, but that's about it."

I feel my eyes bug out slightly. "Are you serious?"

Sookie giggles. "No," she snorts, covering her mouth with her hands, "but you shoulda seen your face just now."

I frown at the girl. "I'm serious, Sookie," I grumble. "Are there any lingering side-effects?"

The other blonde finally gives me a serious look. "Bill saved my life once too. With his blood, I mean. I got real beat up by some white trash couple." My eyes go wide with concern, but she waves her hand as if dismissing the memory.

"Afterwards," she continues, "all my senses were like, heightened for a while. I could smell better. Food tasted better. Folks might even say you look prettier, too," she notes. "I had a bunch of fellas whistlin' and starin' at me more afterwards. And I think some of the female clientel at Merlotte's mighta been checkin' me out too. And uh…" Sookie blushes slightly, "and Vamp blood is kind of like an aphrodesiac. That was on my 'Word of the Day' calendar once. It means –,"

"I know what it means," I cut her off quickly, turning slightly red myself. Great. As if I wasn't horny enough already. Now I've got some vamp juice in me to make it even worse.

"So anything else I can look forward to?" I ask, desperate to not let my mind wander inappropriately. _Aphrodesiac. _Hanging out with a telepath is all kinds of unnerving.

Sookie looks sullen, and I can tell she's holding back information from me.

"Sookie." My voice seems to waiver and I feel a sense of dread creeping in my bones. "That's not all, is it?"

She bites on her bottom lip, and I swear I see her eyes start to water again. I clench the sheets in my fists. _Oh God. I really _am _going to grow horns._

The Southern woman swallows hard. "It's just that now that you've had Bill's blood,' she starts, "he'll be able to pick up on your emotions. It's not quite telepathic like what I can do, but he'll know when you're in trouble or if you're happy or sad or anything in between. And," she pauses, and I wait for the worse, "you're gonna feel attracted to him."

I feel so relieved that I'm not growing a third eyeball that the giggles escape my mouth before I can stop them. Sookie raises her eyebrows at my manic fit of laughter, so I cover my mouth with my hands and collect myself.

"You know you don't have to worry about me, right?" I softly ask the quiet blonde once I've gotten the Church Giggles under control. "I'm not here to steal your boyfriend, Sookie. No offense to Bill, but he's not exactly my type anymore."

I think about the centuries old vampire with his dark hair and thick eyebrows. His strong, stubborn jaw, and straight nose. The thin lips that seem to perpetually grimace. There once was a day, not too many years ago, when Bill would have been _exactly _my type. Tall, dark, undead, and brooding. Now I'd like to strike the undead' from my record.

I cock my head to the side, my mind unconsciously fluttering to thoughts of my sister-Slayer. Now that I think about it, Faith is kind of tall, dark, and brooding herself. And she's _definitely_ not dead.

My mind constructs a mental picture of her beautiful face. Her dark, dangerous eyes. Her thick, wild brunette mane. The dramatic cheekbones and dimpled smile. And those thick, bee-stung lips. The way her tongue always finds its way in the dramatic crevice of her bottom lip. That deep cleft in her full, bottom lip that seems to beg to be kissed or sucked between two lips.

"You should just tell her you have a thing for her," Sookie's voice announces, making me jump a little. I had forgotten she was sitting right there. I look up and see the smirk on her pretty face. She crosses her arms across her pert chest as if daring me to deny anything I was just thinking.

"Get out of my head!" I hiss. I'm sure this isn't the first time she's caught me having less than innocent thoughts about my sister-Slayer. "And I don't have a _thing_," I protest in a lowered voice. "There's no _thing_ to talk about."

Sookie's mouth twists into a knowing grin, and I can plainly see the small gap between her two front teeth. "But you'd _like _for there to be something to talk about," she winks.

"I'm not gay," I insist.

"Never said you were," the blonde girl remarks. "I mean I'm not gonna judge you either way; it's okay if you _are _gay. One of my good friends, Lafayette, is as flamin' as they come. I just think that if you really like a person, regardless of their gender," she chuckles, "or species, life's too short to hold back like that."

"Well I'm _not _gay," I stubbornly repeat.

I hear someone clearing her throat, and Sookie and I both look in the direction of the doorway. It's Faith. _Oh God. How long has she been standing there?_

"Buffy," she breathes. I can feel those dark, penetrating eyes searching what little can be seen of my body under Sookie's bedroom quilt as if trying to assess the extent of my injuries. "You're awake."

Faith is still in the clothes from the previous night. Her t-shirt looks a little wrinkled, her hair a little wild, and her dark eyeliner is slightly smudged. But rather than make her look sloppy or unkempt, she looks even more sexy than usual. Like she just rolled out of bed after an evening of debauchery.

"_Fuck,"_ I think to myself. _"I'm in trouble."_

I catch Sookie looking between us, and I quickly change my train of thought.

"I'm just gonna give you two some time to catch up," the waitress says in a hurried voice. She hops up off of the bed and pauses at the doorway. "I'll be downstairs, but no rush." I swear I see her wink. "No hurry comin' down."

Sookie lays a hand on Faith's shoulder and the two exchange smiles. The blonde's looks encouraging and the Boston girl's grateful for all Sookie has done to help us.

The wooden floor creaks as Faith takes a step toward me.

"How are you?" she asks me quietly, her dark eyes full of worry. She steps into the room and into the light streaming in through one of the bedroom windows. I can practically see the dark circles beneath her eyes from a nearly sleepless night.

I catch her scent as she stalks closer to me, and every cell in my body commands that I possess her. It wildly frightens me. I've never smelled anything or anyone so delicious.

"I'm fine," I say, trying to breathe through my mouth.

Faith cocks an eyebrow at me. "Fine?" she repeats my statement.

I nod, determined to show her just how fine I am. I pick up the tray of breakfast food and set it to the side before throwing the delicate quilt off of my legs. I bounce out of bed, my bare feet landing solidly on the wooden floors.

But rather than remaining in place, Faith rushes over to help me, unaware that I'm fully healed. My nostrils flare and are filled with her intoxicating scent. The intensity of emotions that hits me causes my knees to give out, and I tumble face-forward into my darker colleague.

"Woah. Steady there." Faith murmurs as she helps steady my wobbly legs. Her hands feel strong and assured on my narrow hips. They almost seem to instinctually caress along the jutting bones through the silk of my pajamas. I want to scream. Or tangle my fingers in her wild locks and crush her mouth against mine.

Wait a minute. Silk pajamas?

I take a step (albeit a reluctant step) away from Faith and look down at my clothing. Instead of my yummy sushi pajamas, or even the tank top and soccer shorts I've been donning lately, I'm in a sheer pink lingerie…thing. It's tiny and slinky and not covering up parts of my body that any decent pair of pajamas should. I look down from my small, barely covered breasts down to my bare legs in horror and then glare at Faith.

"What the _hell _am I wearing?"

She gives me a cocky grin and wiggles her over-active eyebrows. "Sookie's pajamas," she states simply. "Your clothes were all bloody."

"And how exactly did I _get _in Sookie's pajamas?" I demand, putting my hands on my hips.

The brunette woman chuckles and I feel her eyes slowly crawl over my exposed skin. I'm not used to wearing so little to bed. Normally I'm head-to-toe in flannel.

"Sookie and I cleaned you up once we got back to her place," she explains. "You passed out at Fangtasia, so Vampire Bill brought us back here. Your clothes had to go – your blood was all over them. Sookie just grabbed that little number outta her chest of drawers. I swear I didn't have anything to do with it," Faith insists.

"But I gotta say, B," she purrs in an unhumanly seductive voice, "I think I prefer this look over the flannel get-ups you usually wear."

I think my knees go a little weak again just from her tone of voice. She takes a dangerous step closer to me and my heartbeat seems to quicken inside my chest. Her face looks serious and her dark eyes even darker than usual.

"Faith," I sigh as she continues to narrow the gap between us. "I need…I need…"

"Yeah, B?" she rasps in a thick voice. She wets her lips and her eyes glide over me once again. "What do ya need?"

"I need...," I breathe, "…clothes."

Faith takes a step backwards and chuckles. She shoves her hands deep into the front pockets of her impossibly tight jeans. "I can go get ya some from the motel," she offers glumly. "That is, unless you wanna go outside just wearin' that," she winks.

"Real clothes would be nice, if it's not too much bother," I grumble.

All of this nakedness is making me uncomfortable, so I try pulling the slight nightgown down to better cover my upper thighs. But all that does is pull the silky material further down my chest. I swear Faith's dark eyes bulge, and I cross my arms across my modest chest, hoping to cover more skin. But then all _that _does is accentuate my cleavage even more. Finally, I plop down on the end of Sookie's bed, well aware that from this position, the sheer pink negligee has slid high up my thighs. I just don't care anymore.

"Please, Faith?" I whine pathetically, kicking my legs a little like a pseudo tantrum. "This is _so _awkward."

She gives me a lopsided grin and walks backwards toward the door. "Fine, B. I'll see if Sookie'll let me borrow her car to get back to the motel. I'll be back in a few minutes with some clothes, sweet cheeks."

She closes the bedroom door behind her before I can properly thank her, but I yell after her regardless: "Thanks, Faith. And stop checking out my sweet cheeks!"

Once Faith returned to Sookie's house with a set of clothes for me, the two of us headed back to the motel. I thanked Sookie profusely for her hospitality and the loan of her pajamas (which she said I could keep, with a little knowing wink).

We made plans to meet up later that evening. Sookie figured that Eric the Vampire had security cameras all over Fangtasia that we could watch to see who had attacked me in the women's bathroom. The Southernern had to work the afternoon shift at Merlotte's, but would be off before it got too late. We had to wait until the sun set anyway to drive back to Shreveport, since Eric would be sleeping until then.

We sat around the motel room for a while, waiting for the sun to fall deeper into the horizon. Faith took a well-deserved nap while I anxiously paced the room. Being attacked in the bathroom at Fangtasia just didn't make any sense to me. No one should know that we were on our way to New Orleans, and no one should have known we were detoured in Bon Temps. And there was no way Twilight could have discovered we had gone to the vampire club that night. Right? But something about the attack, as anonymous and violent as it was, seemed like more than just my usual stint of bad luck.

"Don't hurt the pineapple!" Faith sits up abruptly in bed. Her normally sexy features are scrunched together to form a disgruntled look.

I raise an amused eyebrow from my position by the front window. "Who's hurting the pineapple, Fai?" I ask in a gentle voice.

Her bottom lip pops out and her forehead becomes lined. She rubs her hands on her eyes like a grumpy four-year old who refuses to take a nap. "Uh, nevermind," she grumbles.

I take a seat at the bottom edge of the bed. "Sleep good? Besides the pineapple maiming?"

Her olive-toned skin turns a slight pink with embarrassment. "Shut it, B. Just a stupid reoccurring dream I have, that's all."

"Does Sponge Bob make appearances, too?" I ask, playfully batting my eyelashes at her.

Faith throws back the thin motel comforter off her body and crawls out of bed. "You're an ass, you know that, right?" she scowls.

I remain seated as she pads her way over to the bathroom. My bottom lip turns into a pout of its own. "But I thought you _liked _my sweet cheeks?" I tease.

Faith disappears into the bathroom and I hear the faucet run briefly. She reappears through the doorway with a toothbrush jammed in her mouth. "Your ass is so perfect, B, it should have a shrine," she mouths around the toothbrush.

Now it's my turn to be embarrassed. She always has to take it a step too far. Or at least a step I'm not prepared to take. Yet. I clear my throat awkwardly. "So…." I begin. "We should grab some food before we go back to Shreveport, yeah?"

She disappears again and I hear the faucet turn on and off again before she reappears. "Sounds like a plan to me," she grins. "I'm always up for food." Faith stalks close to me and bends slightly at the waist until her face is just a few inches from mine.

"What are you doing?" I ask anxiously, not comfortable with the way my brunette partner likes to invade my personal-bubble all the time. She blows cool, sweet air on my face. I can almost taste her mint toothpaste. I bat her away, my eyes slightly closed. "Ugh, you're such a weirdo," I complain.

She chuckles to herself, not explaining her actions, and quickly changes out of her rumbled top into a clean, grey t-shirt. I hate to admit it, but even in a t-shirt she looks amazing. Her new shirt is made out of light cotton and it just hangs in all the right ways on her upper torso. The v-neck reveals enough of her delicious collarbone to make my blood flow hot. The tight material hugs her slender waist and her just-right breasts and is cut high enough on her arms to show off her femininely toned arms.

"You ready to motor," she asks with an innocent grin. She's completely oblivious to the fact that the only thing I wanna eat right now is _her. _ Oh God.

I scramble off the bed and snatch my purse from off the ground, practically running toward the exit. "Dang girl," she purrs after me. "You _must _be hungry."

I burst out the front door and swallow the cool evening air in large gulps, hoping the slight chill of the night will cool down my blood. I hear her close the motel door and lock it from behind me, but I don't bother to turn around. I need to calm myself down before I can look at her again.

Rather than wait for Faith, I start to stride toward the bar. My quick pace kicks up small clouds of dust from the gravel parking lot. I've got the service entrance of Merlotte's in my sights, and I'm not slowing down for anything – until I feel a chilly hand grasp my right shoulder.

"Hey darlin'," a foreign voice growls in my ear.

Reacting on pure instinct and adrenalin, I grab the wrist that's attached to the hand and easily toss my would-be-assailant across the parking lot. Far easier than I should be able to without my slayer powers. The body slams hard into the wooden shingles of Sam's bar and shatters a wooden crate with its weight.

My hands fly up to my mouth. "Oh my God!" I gasp.

Faith finally catches up to me and stands near my side. "Holy shit, B," she exclaims. "How did you do that?"

I wordlessly shake my head, unable to form any words. I can only stand in my place and watch as the figure slowly picks himself up. And then I feel it. And so does Faith. "Vampire," she whispers.

I swallow hard and nod. I suddenly realize that I'm weaponless. I left my stake inside my denim jacket back at the motel. I reach into the back waistband of Faith's jeans and pull out the weapon I know she always keeps inside her pants. Okay, so she's got _two _weapons hiding in there, but you know what I mean. I pull out the stake, not the other thing. Cause that's kinda attached between her thighs. And, ugh. Stop me right now.

"So the rumor's true then," the shadowy figure snarls as he stalks closer to us. "Bon Temp's got its very own Slayer."

I take my eyes away from the slowly advancing vampire to look at Faith. We share a thought. _Who told?_

"Always wanted to wrassle with a Slayer," the undead man rumbles. He cocks his head to the side and I hear the bones in his neck crack.

I take a step backwards, suddenly unsure of myself. I haven't fought a vampire since I lost my powers. Can we do this? Can Faith and I take this guy down? And what if it's one of Bill or Sookie's friends?

But the weapon clenched in my hand reminds me that even without my powers, I'm still strong. I can do this. I'm the Slayer.

"Whatsamatter, suga?" the demon purrs. "Not much of a talker?"

He's close now. So close that I can smell the death and decay on his form. His hand lashes out, quicker than I should be able to see, toward my throat. I know he's going to crush my throat if I don't do something. My body reacts. My hand whips out, faster than his own, and my grip crushes the tiny bones in his wrist.

The vampire howls in pain. "You little blonde bitch," he spits angrily. "I'm gonna kill you for that."

He charges toward me with all the grace and stealth of a Linebacker. I easily move to the side, avoiding his advance. As he passes by me, my foot swings out and catches him in the gut. He falls forward into my foot and his eyes bulge. I hear the sweet, satisfying snapping of ribs, and I suddenly realize how much I've missed kicking demon ass. The vampire crumples to the ground and curls his legs into his chest, protecting himself in the fetal position.

I kick him hard in the tailbone. "Who told you about me?" I snarl.

He cries out, whimpering in pain. I kick him again in the kidney for his silence. "I don't know about you, but can keep this up all night," I taunt.

"No one told me," he wheezes pathetically. "I just overheard some people talking at Fangtasia."

I kick him again and he rolls onto his back, giving me easy access to his heart. I don't have to think twice about killing this guy. I lunge the wooden stake down toward the ground and through his unbeating heart. I pull back, smiling, expecting that satisfying 'poof' that I've unknowingly missed.

But it never comes. Instead, the undead man explodes into a violent and chaotic mess of fluids and body parts.

"Oh, now _that _is gross," I complain. I take a tiny step backwards so my shoes don't touch the mysterious red goo.

"What the _fuck_, B? How come you get all the breaks?" Faith seethes in a bitter voice. My eyes flick from the ground up to her angry face. I'd nearly forgotten she was there during the fight. "It's not even like you _enjoy _being a Slayer," she bitterly points out. "So how come _you _get your Powers back and I'm still the weak one?"

"I don't know?" I yell back in response. "I don't know what's going on, Faith. I don't know if I have my powers back. Sookie told me that one of the side-effects of Bill's blood would be strength."

"Oh," she states simply, the anger quickly falling out of her voice. How quickly she forgets that I nearly died last night.

I clench my fists at my sides as I stare down at the pile of gunk that used to be a vampire. I don't know if I should be happy or scared. What the heck is going on with my body? And why is there a pile of innards instead of a pile of dust at my feet?

"Where are you going?" she hollers after me.

"I've gotta call Willow," I yell at her without looking back. I spy a dilapidated phone booth across the parking lot, illuminated by a single lamppost. I didn't even think phone booths still existed, but Northern Louisiana is proving to be a special brand of crazy.

I dial the familiar international number collect. I shouldn't really be calling the gang because of Twilight's resources, but I need to make sure they didn't do something to cause my powers to come back. The phone rings twice before I hear the telling click.

Hello? comes the familiar voice. I feel myself instinctively smile and the pit of dread in my stomach doesn't feel so overwhelming.

"Will?" I clutch the black receiver in my hand. None of the other slayers have their powers back. "It's me. I can't talk long. But did you guys do a spell or something? Because I've strong again."

It's Buffy, I hear Willow say to someone in the room despite holding her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. She's got her powers back.

God damn it. I instantly recognize the bitter voice in the background. It's Kennedy. _Of course_ she'd be bitter about something like this. She was the angriest of all of us to have to give up our powers. Except for maybe Willow.

I hear my best friend continue to talk to other people in the background, letting everyone know that it's me on the phone, and my mind involuntarily starts to wander as I wait for her. Kennedy and Faith kind of remind me of each other. Dark hair, almost same skin tone, dangerous eyes. Except Ken is _way _brattier. And Faith is _way _sexier.

"_God, stop it, Buffy," _I chastise myself._ "That's not helping things at all."_

"Willow?" I call into the phone, suddenly annoyed at the entire situation. "I don't have time here. Everything's a mess. Did you guys do anything to cause this?"

N-no, Buffy, my friend insists. And no one here has her powers back. What about Faith?

I look through the scratched and smudged glass of the phone booth and see my sister-Slayer throwing rocks at the side of a building. "No," I mumble. "Faith doesn't have her powers. It's just me."

Did you guys make it to… Willow pauses and I can tell she's realized she shouldn't say anything about our trip to New Orleans in case their phones have been tapped by Twilight.

"No, not yet. I'll let you know though," I say as vaguely as I can. I want to tell my best friend everything that's happened in the past few days, but it would put Faith and me in even more danger.

The sound of police sirens in the background alerts me and I involuntarily tightened my hold around the plastic phone. Maybe someone heard the scuffle and called the police. Maybe someone _saw _the scuffle and it's not illegal to kill vampires and the police are coming for us.

"Will, I'll tell you everything when I can," I insist in a hurried voice. "Stay safe," I instruct her before hanging the phone back up on its plastic cradle.

When I open the hinged door of the phone booth, Faith is standing right there. Her dark eyes are filled with worry. "You hear that?" she asks.

I wordlessly nod.

"Think they're coming for us?" she questions me, although I don't know why she'd think I have the answer.

I shake my head. "I don't know," I say, "but I'm not about to stick around and find out."

I grab Faith's hand in my own and the two of us take off into the dense forest that surrounds Merlotte's bar. I have no idea where we're heading, but I just know we need to get as far away from Sam's bar and the motel, at least until the police have left the area.

Another sound, new, makes us pause our escape. "You hear that?" my slaying partner asks for the second time that night. I hardly have to strain my hearing to listen to what she's referring. The sound of drum beats and bass flutter easily through the thick tree leaves.

"This way," I mumble, leading her deeper into the forest where I can feel the music coming from. I can almost see musical notes floating through the air, my senses are so heightened.

The dense forest begins to thin and become sparse as we head closer and closer toward the sound of music. I can hear people laughing and screaming gleefully. And, oddly, the sound of water splashing. The faint scent of chlorine lingers in the air, but I can't quite place why the forest should smell like a pool.

I push the leaves out of the way and my eyes grow big when I find the source of the noises and smells. I stand, dumbstruck, not believing what I'm looking at. Faith's heavy boots crunch noisily on fallen sticks and leaves behind me, and she nearly bumps into me from behind because I stop so quickly.

Faith finds her voice before I do. And it's only then that I realize that what I'm looking at isn't a dream: "Holy shit."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Suggested Listening: "Teeth" by Lady Gaga

"You can say that again," I mutter under my breath.

Apparently I didn't get the memo or the invite had been lost in the mail, because a spontaneous pool party has sprung up in the middle of the forest. And by the looks of it, half of Bon Temp's residents are in attendance.

Some people are swimming, while others are dancing around the pool. A conga-line is threatening to appear right before my eyes. I recognize a handful of the party's guests as regulars at Merlotte's bar. I even see the mechanic, Mr. McFarlen.

"_Oh God, I do _not_ need to see that man with his shirt off,_" I shudder to myself.

The chlorine pool is large, maybe even Olympic sized, or maybe I have no idea what I'm talking about, and that makes it sound like I do. In the far distance I see a large white house, plantation style. Elegant tables surround the pool and a virtual schmorgesborg of fresh fruit and decadent desserts liter the white tablecloths. There may even be a chocolate fountain hiding somewhere.

And again I lament my waistline. I've never been so well-fed on a mission in all of my life. Maybe vampire blood will give me super metabolism to go along with my super hornies. Seems like a fair enough trade off if you ask me.

"Think anyone would notice two more at the party?" Faith asks from her position next to me. Her voice is a raspy whisper in my ear.

Speaking of hornies.

I glance back at the party. Everyone seems to be having such a good time. And my stomach is not-so-subtly reminding me that we missed dinner due to the ill timing of a vampire. I'm seriously hungry and…well, you know what else.

"C'mon," I say to my slaying partner and make my way through the low brush into the clearing where the party continues to rage.

No one seems to notice us, or they do, and they don't care. Everyone is laughing and carefree and having an amazing time like it's the party of the century. Faith and I walk over to one of the long buffet tables and start to make ourselves a plate from the assorted fruits and vegetables on display.

"This is one helluva kegger," Faith mutters to me under her breath as she piles her plate high. I pause my scavenging to take a look at the crowd again. People are in various states of undress and continue to swim and dance and eat and laugh as though they don't have a care in the world.

Maybe it's a Southern thing. Maybe the rest of the world is so burdened with stress that we can't just unwind like this. And then we're quick to judge the people in this part of the country for their different outlook on life. But then again, these people don't have the U.S. Army after them and a masked villain who wants to destroy you and everything you stand for. Heavy.

"I don't think I've seen you two before," a feminine voice observes from behind me.

My body tenses like I've just been caught doing something I shouldn't be doing, and I nearly drop the tower of fruit I've accumulated on the plate. The tone isn't aggressive or accusatory, but there's something about the woman's sing-songy lilt that's like nails across a chalkboard.

Faith and I turn, simultaneously, to find a tall woman in a long, flowing summer dress. It's really more of a gown than anything I'd label as a skirt. Her dark, brunette hair is upswept, away from her face, and I can see tiny springs of baby's breath in her hair.

She looks older than us. Her face is slightly lined with age, but she doesn't look quite 'Mom' age. The most dramatic wrinkles are near the corners of her painted eyes as if she smiles and laughs a lot. Her eye-makeup is applied to perfection, with dramatic eyebrows and heavily lined lids. Her cheekbones, slightly tinted with blush, are delicate and set high on her face. The overall effect makes her look Egyptian or Greek. Like something ancient and carved out of stone.

She takes pity on our awkwardness, and fills the silence with her voice again. "I'm MaryAnn," she says. She waves a hand out toward us in such a graceful, grand way that I feel like I should bow or curtsy or kiss her hand or something. I just nod dumbly, and Faith shoves a piece of melon in her mouth.

"Nice to meet you," I manage to remember my manners. Mom would be so proud.

I scan the crowd nervously, looking for a reason to squirm away from the curious gaze of this woman. Her deep penetrating eyes seem to mock me. I feel like the new girl at school who has the wrong haircut and the wrong shoes and everyone is pointing and laughing at my _faux pas_. That's what we get for crashing the party, I suppose.

"Hey, I think I see Tara over there," Faith chimes in, taking my arm suddenly.

"Tara?" I give my sister-Slayer a quizzical look and she responds with a 'I'll-tell-you-later.-Just-go-with-it' look of her own.

MaryAnn's curious face crinkles into a broad smile. "Oh, you're friends of Tara's," she breezes with a mirthful giggle. "Well, welcome then. Welcome." And with those words, she dances away from us to mingle with some of the party's other guests.

Faith's grip at my elbow falls away, and I instantly miss the heat of her touch on my bare skin. "Uh, what was that?" I ask her, referring to her random name-dropping.

The Boston girl nods in the direction of an oversized hot tub. Lounging inside the tub are two brilliantly attractive people.

"Tara," she states as though the name should be obvious to me. "You know, the bartender from Merlotte's?"

I can't help the smirk on my face. Of course Faith would have learned the bartender's name. That's just so….so…Faith.

As we walk closer to the couple, I'm taken aback by their accumulative attractiveness. I'm used to seeing hot chicks with ugly guys, but this so isn't the case. I remember Tara as the girl behind the bar, but I've never seen the guy she's with before. I certainly would have remembered _him._

He's tall with broad shoulders that look exaggerated compared to his tapered, swimmer's waist. He's shirtless, his ebony skin contrasting with his long, powder blue swim trunks. And Holy Cow, that boy's got a washboard stomach you could literally clean your dirty clothes on.

Which reminds me, we're going to have to find a coin laundry soon or I'll be wearing my underwear inside-out pretty soon. Ick. Although if I told Faith that's why I need to do laundry, she'd just wink at me and tell me that it's all the more reason to go without. But have you seriously ever worn a cotton skirt without underwear? Let me say…quite the adventure.

When we finally make our way over to the couple, Faith greets them with that award-winning grin of hers.

"Hey, T," she calls out as if the bartender and she are longtime friends. I feel the grumblings of jealousy in the pit of my stomach. How does Faith always manage to do things like this?

Merlotte's resident bartender looks up at us and I'm instantly impressed with her perfect, dazzling smile. "Oh hey there, Faith," she drawls in her deep Southern twang. "Didn't expect to see y'all here."

Faith shrugs nonchalantly. "I've got an internal radar," she winks. "I always know where the best parties are."

Tara's partner unleashes a laugh and it's a low, rumbling chuckle. She turns to him and smiles. "Oh, this is Eggs," she introduces. "Eggs…this is Faith and…" she pauses, trying to remember…"and Buffy, right?"

He stands up from the edge of the hot tub and sticks out his large hand toward Faith. "Nice to meet you guys," he says in an even lower voice. He flashes a perfect smile in my direction.

"Eggs?" I ask, cocking my head to the side and taking his hand in a long, solid shake.

Tara nudges the man playfully in the ribs when he returns to his seat next to her at the edge of the hot tub. "His real name is Benedict," she reveals, looking at him coyly, "but he's too embarrassed to let anyone know."

Eggs splashes some water at Tara with one of his dangling feet. "You'd better not get my hair wet," she warns in a light mocking tone.

Faith smiles knowingly and nods in my direction. "Unfortunately 'Buffy's' not short for anything. It's just an embarrassing name."

"Hey!" I protest, but I can't help but giggle a little.

Something about being away from the motel and Merlotte's and the seriousness of our stay feels not as heavy as we chat with this couple by the poolside. The moon is out and nearly full. The music is intoxicating and everyone here seems so full of life, it's contagious.

I'm not sure where the music is coming from, maybe from some hidden rock speakers or something. But as I'm deep in conversation with Eggs about the cruelty behind parents naming their children, Faith wanders off, her hips swaying in time with the heavy throb of drums. My eyes seem to be acting on their on accord and follow her finely-crafted ass as it wiggles to the music.

I marvel at her ability to just…be. It's enviable how she's always so natural in any situation. She could be the main course at a cannibal reception and still manage to be at ease. I lick my lips unconsciously as I continue to leer at her swaying form. Her eyes are closed, her hands and arms above her head, waving through the night air as her delicious hips swing back and forth with the music.

"So are you guys are on vacation or something?"

Tara's voice rips me away from my fledgling perverse thoughts.

"Vacation?" I repeat. "Uh, what did Faith tell you?"

"That y'all were on vacation," the bartender states with a small, suspicious frown. "But I ain't never heard of anyone vacationing in Bon Temps."

"Our car broke down," I explain. "We're actually on our way to New Orleans…for, uh...Mardi Gras."

"You're kinda early for Mardi Gras aren't you?" she points out, her dark eyes inspecting me.

"Well you know what they say," I scramble, "early bird…worms…"

I glance at Faith out of the corner of my eye. A crowd of college-aged boys has gravitated toward her magnetic form. Why does she always leave me like this? She should know by now I always stick my feet in my mouth.

"Excuse me," I pardon myself with a quick mumble. "I gotta save those boys from Faith."

I hear Tara and Eggs laugh, but I turn away from the attractive couple and make my way over to my sister-Slayer. Faith has her arms around some tall, lanky boy's neck and I don't like it one bit.

"Mind if I cut in?" I ask, batting my eyes.

Faith's eyes look darker than normal, but I'm sure it's just the dim lighting. After all, we _are _in the middle of the forest and the sun set a while ago. She gives me a leer and pushes her dancing partner away. Her sudden movement is unexpected and he stumbles backwards and falls into the pool.

I stare, a little slack-jawed as the man resurfaces from blue-tinted water and laughs, shaking the chlorinated liquid out of his shaggy hair. The rest of the party's guests pause momentarily to laugh along with him and then go back to their own grinding.

"A simple 'Yes' would have worked," I point out to my slaying partner.

She doesn't respond, and instead I find one of her arms sliding around my waist and pulling me into her. I feel the heat radiating off her tight body and it makes me involuntarily shiver. She feels like a furnace.

We don't speak anymore. We just dance together, her arms feeling peculiarly natural around my waist. Our lower bodies are pressed tightly together as we move as one with the frantic drums. The music seems louder in my ears than before. Like it's swallowing us up.

And before I realize what's happening, her face has moved and she's staring into my eyes. We're no longer dancing. And suddenly she's kissing me. And I'm kissing her back.

There's no tongue. Just warm lips pressing against lips. And when I realize I'm dangerously close to wanting more than just this, I pull my head back and untangle myself from her slender, yet muscled arms.

"Y-you kissed me," I mange to choke out. Way to state the obvious, Buffy.

"And you kissed me back," Faith darkly retorts.

"I so did not!" I futilely protest. My arms seem to stubbornly cross on their own.

Faith takes a step toward me, invading that personal bubble she's been so fond of popping lately. I wish she'd just pop my…Anyway.

She touches her fingertips to her plush lips. "I felt it, B," she rasps. "You can't honestly think I didn't feel your lips press against mine."

"There wasn't any pressing," I glumly state. "If you felt anything, it was my lips pushing yours _away_."

Of course there was pressing. I can't be blamed for kissing back when her lips feel so soft and sure and so right in all the wrong ways. And now I'm panicking and running away.

Well, not _literally _running away. Because that's what Faith is doing. Or more like _stomping _away.

"Where are you going?" I yell after her quickly retreating form. But she doesn't stop or even bother to turn her head. She just keeps going.

I start to follow her, full knowing if I don't, she'll deadbolt me out of the motel room. She's even locked me out of a tent before. Tell me how _that's _even possible. But before I can get too far, a hand at my elbow stops me. It's MaryAnne.

"Are you two taking off so soon?" she asks with a slight pout on her mouth. Her eyes look like they're still mocking me, however.

I pull away, but not so quickly as to offend the party's host. "Yeah," I nod. "I totally forgot we were supposed to meet up with some friends later." Which isn't a lie. We _did_ have plans to go to Shreveport with Sookie when she got off her shift.

"Well why don't you bring your friends back here? I promise you the party hasn't even begun to warm up yet," she notes with a coy smile.

I take a moment to look around the yard. Some of the guests have coupled off since we first stumbled across the party, and I'm reminded of junior high make-out parties. You know the kind. Everyone partners up, and then the lights go out. A bad kissing orgy.

I was in the seventh grade the first time a boy ever French-kissed me. He was in eighth. I remember running home straight afterwards and vigorously brushing my teeth to get the taste of his tongue out of my mouth. I vowed I'd never kiss a boy ever again. It's weird how things turn out. The last two people I've kissed were Satsu and Faith.

Faith. Who I still have to chase after before some vampire finds her. Or the cops.

I manage to wiggle out of MaryAnn's peculiar stare, mumbling a few apologies as I stagger away. The tile around the pool is lined with empty booze bottles and discarded clothing. And with uncanny stealth I'm able to make it back to the line of trees where Faith and I first stumbled upon the party, without falling into the pool.

I can't see my sister-Slayer ahead of me in the forest. And with my new super hearing, I don't even hear her or smell her storming away. I'm not too worried though; I assume she just made her way back to Merlotte's. Sookie's there. And lots of alcohol. When in doubt, you can always find Faith near the alcohol.

When I walk up to Merlotte's, the parking lot appears nearly vacant. It's not what I would have expected having been at the popular bar for the past few nights. When I step inside the building, however, I'm greeted by a sentence I can't say I've ever heard before:

"Sure she was a horrible waitress, but is that any reason to _kill _the girl?"

My ears immediately perk up and I scan the room, trying to find Faith. There aren't too many people in the bar. In fact, it looks like it's closed. There's a few employees scattered around, gathered in small groups and talking in hushed voices.

I finally see Faith sitting at one of the smaller circular tables next to Sookie. The blonde's head is down and her shoulders slumped forward. And Faith's got her arm around the waitress's shoulders.

_What. The. Hell. _

How dare she kiss me, leave me, and then fling herself on the next available blonde.

I storm over to Faith. "You left me!" I vent.

Her dark eyes flick up to see me, not surprised that I found her so quickly. "Now's not exactly a good time, B," she warns me in a low voice.

Sookie looks up too then, sitting up straighter in her chair. I see Faith's hand on her bare shoulder and it makes me boil. But then I see the Southern girl's blood-shot eyes and I quickly forget my petty jealousy. Her mascara is smudged and her nose is red.

I drop down to a crouched position so I'm in front of the waitress. "Sookie," I murmur, the concern clear in my voice. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Her shoulders shudder slightly as another unwanted sob wracks over her form. "It's – It's Sam," she simpers. "The cops think he killed Daphne."

The name doesn't register and I look briefly at Faith. Her eyes are dark, but there's nothing in them to give me an indication that I should know who Sookie is talking about.

"Who's Daphne?" I brave.

"She's…well she _was _the new waitress here," Sookie explains. "Not a very good one though," she mumbles, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand.

"Sam found her when he was getting ready to open for the dinner crowd tonight," Sookie continues. "In the meat freezer. Without her heart."

My mouth drops open at her admission. Another body. Another dead body.

"And the police…" I trail off.

"Those red-neck, ignorant bastards think Sam did it!" Sookie yells, her pretty face getting red from anger. "They put him in handcuffs like some common criminal and took him away."

Faith momentarily restrains the girl, coaxing her back into her seat. I can see her hand at the back of the waitresses' neck. Sookie's hair is up in its usual ponytail and Faith strokes the skin there in a reassuring, calming way.

_What the hell is going on_?

"We'll find out who did this, Sookie," Faith reassures the blonde Southerner in a patient voice.

And I know, without a doubt, that we need to solve this soon. Not just because Sam's in trouble. Not just because the bodies are starting to pile up. But because I need to get Faith out of this town and away from Sookie.

Because if she's going to be soothing any blonde girl, it should only be me.

After walking Sookie to Bill's house, Faith and I went back to our motel room. Sookie obviously wasn't up for driving to Shreveport that night, but Faith insisted in a calm, placated voice that looking at the security tapes could wait. I bristled slightly when she said it. Did she no longer care that someone had tried to kill me?

Sookie insisted that she'd be fine, though. In the morning she'd visit Sam at the local jail and see if his bail was manageable. Then we could go to Shreveport that night when she got off of work.

I asked if she'd still have to work, what with Sam in jail, but she just gave me a strange look and said that just because he had been unfairly accused of a crime he hadn't committed, didn't mean that the people of Bon Temps wouldn't need a place to have dinner or get a beer.

I apologized for my short-sightedness.

"Did Sookie say there was any connection between the two stiffs?"

When we got back to the room, Faith dashed into the bathroom before I could claim dibs.

Faith always leaves the bathroom door open, unfortunately even when she showers. She said it's habit; she doesn't like being in that small of a space. And leaving the door open makes her claustrophobia a little better, I guess. But at least we can still talk while she's getting ready for bed and I'm doing the same. Efficient.

Although I don't know how many times I've passed a motel bathroom in which she's been showering and had to look the other way. Low-grade motel shower curtains don't leave much to the imagination.

"No," I reply, talking louder than usual so she can hear me over the running water. "The first woman wasn't even from Bon Temps, so no one knows anything about her. And the waitress, Daphne, was new to town." I pause, thinking for a moment. "Maybe whatever's doing this is targeting just the non-locals?" I speculate.

Great, that probably means we're next.

At least the appearance of another dead body has given us something to talk about. And something to take my mind away from the fact that Faith kissed me at the impromptu orgy. Even just the specter of intimacy has made my body run hot.

"So I guess we should be worried then, huh?" she calls out, literally reading my thoughts.

"Wouldn't be the first time some evil creature wanted to rip out my heart," I half-joke through the thin walls. "You almost done in there?" I call out. Faith's taking her sweet ass time getting ready for bed, or whatever she's doing in the bathroom, and I begin to become impatient.

"I'm almost done," she complains. "Don't get your panties in a twist."

"_Hmph. I'll show her,"_ I say to myself. Faith always makes fun of me because I don't get undressed in front of her like I'm the Queen of Modesty. _"Well, won't she be surprised when she comes out and I'm already in my pajamas." _This day has been too long and too confusing for me to wait for her any longer.

I pull my tank top off and give it a slight sniff. It doesn't smell too bad despite the heat of the day. I could probably get away with another day of wearing it before it has to be washed.

I wiggle my skirt down my hips and my underwear slips off along with it. Standing in just my bra, I take unnecessary time folding my clothes from the day and set them on the chair next to my bed. I reach behind my back, my hand deftly moving to the bra fasten in the center of my back, and eventually shrug out of the lacy undergarment.

I hear the toilet flush, but think nothing of it until I see Faith walking out of the small bathroom, flossing her teeth. She's wearing the minimal pajamas she's become accustomed to wearing around me. And I'm totally naked.

My hands move to cover up my body parts, but there are too many parts and not enough hands.

"Y-You were taking so long in there," I hastily explain. My eyes dart around the room, trying to find where I put my pajamas from the previous night. _Oh crap, I didn't sleep in this bed last night_, I suddenly remember.

Faith drops her eyes to the thinly carpeted floor. "I-I'm sorry. I thought you would just wait…"

A small bubble of nervous laughter erupts out of my mouth. "It's okay!" I squeak. "It's not like you haven't seen this all before, right?"

Her eyes snap up to meet mine. She's not gawking at my nudity or my vulnerability like I would have expected; her smoldering gaze instead is locked on my face. "It's been a while since I've seen you." The way she says it, I'm not quite sure of its meaning.

Faith's voice is rough and dry, much huskier than her usual tone. "You don't have to hide, B," she rasps quietly. Something in her voice stops my instinct to scamper over to the bed and cover my form with stiff, cotton sheets.

She steps closer to me, and I feel like a field mouse paralyzed with fear in front of a stalking serpent. Before I realize it, she's standing in front of me. Her hands slowly move to meet mine and she gently forces my hands away from my body, taking away my last shred of shocked modesty. Her dark chocolate eyes take their time as they sweep over my naked body. It's as if she wants to memorize every dip, curve and freckle on my nude form.

I feel myself blush a million shades of red. My skin is probably blotchy from my face down to my breastplate. I've never felt so naked before in front of a lover. _Holy shit_, I realize. _I want Faith to be my lover_.

"Faith." I whimper her name, feeling completely at the mercy of her languid stare.

I can't take it anymore. I just need her to touch me.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Buffy POV**

Her mouth is on my neck.

Her mouth. Is on. My neck. Her teeth feel rough and eager and fill me with a kind of need I've never experienced before. I don't know if it's the vampire blood coursing through my veins, or if it's just her influence on me.

Without her strong hands, tight around my waist, I'm sure I would tumble onto the ground. Every time her mouth moves over the pressure point in my neck, my knees slightly buckle from not-unwelcomed desire.

When she moves one of her hands away from my side and it begins to travel down my taut stomach, and lower still, I know we've reached a crossroads. If I let her do this…everything will change. If we do this…if I let myself do this, we'll either be awkward around each other (well, I imagine _I'll_ be the awkward one and she'll just be hostile), or…I'm not really sure there's an alternative, actually.

All I really know for certain is that we wouldn't be okay. We couldn't just pretend this was nothing more than slayer hormones. We wouldn't snuggle contently with one another afterwards, or share a cozy breakfast in bed the morning after. Faith doesn't strike me as the snuggling type.

Her hand slides along my hipbone. Her fingers inadvertently bump lower. It's like electricity hits my clit even though she's still inches from my pussy. Oh God. Can I let her do this?

Her short nails rake along my inflamed flesh, and a whimper pushes past my teeth and needy lips. She scratches me, just enough to make me feel it down to my core. I half expect to see a smirk on her mouth or hear her raspy voice taunt me. She's clearly in control. But all I see is concentration and a kind of determination in her dark eyes.

_Could _we pass this off as just two friends, as Faith would say, helping each other scratch an itch?

But if she, uh, scratches …Oh God, her nails, my uh, my itch. Do I have to…scratch hers in return? Would she even _want _me to?

She still hasn't breathed a syllable since I first whispered her name. Maybe she's afraid, like me, that if we talked, we might lose our nerve or this momentum that's got us on a crash course towards the orgasm I need so very, very much.

Her mouth is back on my neck. Her delicious, talented mouth that reminds me she hasn't even really started yet. Her hot breath makes the skin moist where she breathes heavily against my flesh.

Why am I putting so much thought into this? Who am I kidding? I _need _her to do this.

She stops kissing my neck again, and instead her eyes gaze in the direction of my lower regions. Her other hand tightens around my waist. Faith's fingers dig into the flesh as if she instinctively knows what she's about to do will make me run or crumble.

Her free hand, that deliciously wandering touch, leaves my hipbone and she drags her nails down the outside of my quivering thigh. It feels like she's burning me wherever her fingernails trail. I suck in a sharp breath of humid, heavy air when her fingertips dance across the front of my thighs, closer and closer to my pussy.

My heart beats loudly in my chest. If she had her Slayer hearing, I'd be embarrassed she could hear it as well. It pounds too loud, filling my ears with a doomsday countdown. It's do or die. If she doesn't touch me where I need her, I'm going to die.

My eyes flutter close and it feels like everything around me is frozen in time. My mind clears of our tumultuous past and the road that got us to this point. I forget, just for a moment, about Twilight and impending doom. I let my thoughts wander away from the heavy reality that I'm no longer a secret heroine; I'm a Slayer. Something to be feared, hated, and misunderstood. But when she's touching me, it's like nothing else exists except her fingers and my inner thighs.

She's got to be able to feel my wetness by now. My arousal feels like it's leaking out of my cunt and coating the flesh of my inner thighs.

I wonder if she's anywhere as turned on as I am. But my own scent is so heady it's the only thing I can smell. Please let this be it. Please don't let her realize how badly this could end. I just need her. Don't think, Faith. Just do. Do me.

Just the tips of her fingers glide along my sex. There go my knees again. At this rate, I'll be a puddle of mush before we get to the good parts. Oh, God. I need her touching my parts.

I thank whatever god is in charge of razors that I took the extra time to have recently shaved down there. Don't want her thinking I keep a furry animal inside my pants or something.

Her fingers continue to move, continue to travel is that hesitant, searching way. I close my eyes tightly, a shuddering gasp raking my body when I feel her gently part my lips. I place a hand on the top of her shoulder, bracing myself for whatever she has planned next. Her bare skin is warm and soft beneath my palm, yet I can always feel the dangerous strength her form holds, even if she thinks she's powerless.

With just one talented hand, she's parted my sex. It makes me feel empty. Makes me crave her inside me. But she's not a mind reader, or else she knows exactly what I want and isn't going to give it to me yet. I seriously hope I don't have to beg.

With two fingers, she keeps my sex open while another digit slides along my seeping slit. She dips just the tip of her finger between my lips, causing me to groan quietly, but she only collects my arousal to spread it elsewhere rather than diving inside me.

She continues to touch me in a soft, careful way as if she's afraid she'll break me. Her touch is light and feathery against my shaved pussy. It's not enough and too much at the same time. I whimper again when her middle finger brushes along the side of my tender clit. I wonder if she can feel my heartbeat throbbing in the small, fleshy nub.

I bite my bottom lip and look into her dark chocolate eyes. I want to tell her how I want her to touch me, but I don't have the nerve to say what I need.

_Inside me, please Faith. I need to feel you inside me. I need your fingers pushing and pulling at my insides. I need you to fuck me, to make me cum on your hand._

I might not have the words, but I can _show_ her what I need.

I remove my hand from her shoulder and grab her free hand, which had been resting near my waist. Her eyes widen slightly, silently questioning my new movements. I bring her unoccupied fingers to my mouth and take two between my lips. This time she's the one whimpering and groaning as I swirl my tongue around the length of her digits. I tighten my mouth slightly and suck. I feel her body sway and her other hand fumble in its ministrations on my tormented pussy.

I pull her fingers from my warm mouth and trail the now wet digits down the front of my body, sliding them down my neck, between my breasts, and down my flexing stomach. I turn her hand over, so her palm is facing the ceiling and push her fingers back so only her middle digit is extended.

My actions have surprised even me, and from the look on her face she's just as taken aback as myself. I hold her wrist in my two hands. I part my legs further apart, widening my stance. And I guide her finger deep into my pussy.

We groan, simultaneously, as her single digit slides past my pussy lips and dives deep into my hot cunt. Her breath is ragged and shaky in my ear. She's finally inside me.

Faith needs little further encouragement from me. My eyes squeeze shut and I focus on the way she feels, continually thrusting her single digit in and out of my eager cunt. I can feel my long-awaited orgasm building, just waiting to be released.

I've experienced different kinds of orgasms before, most of them at my own hands. This one is like a wave washing over me. It builds and builds and builds as she continues to plunge into me, her thumb working tirelessly on my sensitive clit.

I cry out when it hits me. I form no words, however. It's just a sound. Like an explosion that originated from inside of me. Like spontaneously combusting.

And when it's over, she withdraws her hands and holds me at the waist. I'm panting, sweating, my breath coming in deep, gulping breaths. My legs are shakier than ever.

"Should we take this over to the bed?" she asks in that seductively husky rasp, her lips moving over my sweat-beaded collarbone. She licks me there, hard, and I audibly gasp. "I'm not done with you yet," she purrs in a quiet voice.

It's the first thing she's said beyond a few pained groans since finding me naked. Not that I minded that her mouth was preoccupied with more important things than say, forming words.

There's a sharp rap on the door, and before I'm able to respond to her invitation, my legs are moving and I'm fleeing to the shelter of the bathroom.

"Buffy!" I hear Faith scowl after me. The way she says my name, it sounds like a four-letter word.

I close myself in the bathroom and hold myself up against the back of the door. The wood feels moist against my forehead as I lean my head into it.

One knock on the door and I run like a scared little rabbit. One reminder of the outside world, and I try to hide the evidence of what we had just barely begun to do. No wonder she's always so angry with me.

I find a clean towel and wrap it around my naked form. It's either this or the shower curtain since I didn't have the foresight to grab my clothes when I fled the scene. Too busy panicking and trying to put as much distance between myself and Faith as possible.

Faith looks over at the bathroom door as I make my grand entrance. She hasn't opened the front door yet. I open my mouth, hoping an adequate apology will magically tumble out. The words refuse to form though, and I snap my jaw shut when there's a louder knock on the door.

"Yeah?" Faith spits out. Her words are angry and bitter and her beautiful mouth that was so recently fluttering along my pressure points is now twisted in an ugly leer.

"It's Bill Compton," a voice from the other side of the door announces. "The vampire."

Faith turns away from the door and flashes me a puzzled look. I shrug, momentarily relieved by this distraction.

"Just a second, Bill," I call out, scrambling to find something besides the tiny towel to cover my body.

As I wiggle into a t-shirt and pajama pants, I'm acutely aware of Faith's appreciative glance. I have no right to scold her for the leer on her lips, though. She's just seen me in a far more compromising position. I flick my eyes in her direction and her own dark irises shift so she's no longer looking at me.

She's still just in a tank top and boi cut underwear. Her long brown hair is loose and wild. She's breathtaking.

"Could you at least put on some pants?" I snap in a tone so angry it surprises my ears.

She rewards me with a nonchalant shrug, the movement hefting her braless breasts up and down.

Clearly in defiance of my demand, she saunters towards the front door. I can see the finely toned muscles in her shoulder blades rolling and flexing like a wild jungle cat. Fuck, I still want her so badly.

She pulls the door open with a hasty tug. Bill stands by himself on the front stoop in a flannel shirt and dark dress slacks. His large dark eyes take in my barely clad colleague and he clears his throat. I want to plunge a wooden weapon through his unbeating heart for looking at her that way. I think of the stake I sleep with under the top mattress, but I suppress the primal instinct to kill Sookie's boyfriend for seeing Faith in this state of undress.

After an awkward moment, Bill regains his composure and speaks: "I apologize for the late visit. I hope I wasn't…" he pauses and I swear I see a small smile at the corners of his mouth, "interrupting."

There's no way he can't smell my arousal in the air.

Faith looks suddenly guilty and hides her sticky hands behind her back. "No. Not interrupting," she lies, her voice slightly cracking. "Come in."

He nods in gratitude and crosses the threshold of our modest motel room.

Just because I'm the short one, I don't know why that means I automatically get the backseat.

Sookie sent Bill to our motel room. Even with all that had happened that night with her co-workers, Daphne and Sam, she had still insisted Faith and I get to Shreveport that night to look at the security camera tapes. She stayed behind in Bon Temps though; Bill explained she needed to make calls to find Sam a lawyer so they could bail him out of the local jail in the morning.

Bill's dark car pulls into the nearly vacant parking lot of the Shreveport vampire bar. "We'll be brief," he says, putting his luxury vehicle into park. "There's no need for us to linger here once we've looked at the tapes."

It's clear that the vampire doesn't want to be here with us. Sookie's got some remarkable thrall over this man to convince him to take two Slayers to a vampire bar.

I hop out of the back of Bill's vehicle and jog momentarily to catch up with the long strides of the car's other two occupants. Damn short legs. We pause momentarily at the front door of Fangtasia where the same bouncer from that night, Pam, stands guard.

Pam's eyes lazily examine our odd trio. "No Sookie tonight, Bill?" she asks, raising a finely crafted eyebrow. Her pink mouth purses slightly and her tongue flicks out, running along her lower lip. I feel her gaze stop on me. "Not that I blame you," she murmurs. "The blonde one looks delicious."

She takes a step closer and I feel Faith tense beside me. I pray my Boston companion won't try to lash out at this powerful female vampire. If it came to blows, I don't know if Bill would have our back or join Pam in the slaughter.

Her fingers come to rest on my neck and I suck in a deep breath. Her nails are long and manicured and they finger the faded scars. "Looks like someone got you already," she breathes, "but they let you go."

"Amazing," she murmurs lowly, her eyes still fixed on my neck. "Someone tasted you, and yet you live." She shakes her blonde head, as if coming out of a daze. Pam looks back up at Bill with a mischievous smile on her painted lips. "If you're done with Sookie, Bill…" she trails off.

Bill's teeth extend and he hisses quietly at the female bouncer. "Sookie is Mine," he threatens around his fangs.

Pam looks bored, not bothering to pull her teeth out as well. She waves at us, motioning for us to go into the club. "Yes, yes," she says, rolling her piercingly blue eyes. "The human is yours. Go get yourself something to drink," she chuckles darkly. "I'll tell Eric you're here."

Bill's teeth snap back up into his upper jaw. "Thank you, Pam," he states in a crisp, clipped tone.

I blink once. How did his teeth do that without his face going into Game Mode? Has he been doing that the entire time? I stare at Bill with renewed interest as we follow Pam into the bar. My gaze doesn't go unnoticed for long.

"What is it you wish to know, Buffy?" the dark-haired vampire asks. His eyes look tired.

I chew on my bottom lip. "Your teeth," I start. "How do you…I mean, your fangs. They came out and your face…it didn't go all…all…raarrr."

Bill's lips form a tight line. "My kind do not like to share our secrets," he mutters.

The bartender comes over to us, and Bill orders a bottle of True Blood for himself and Faith and I order a Jack & diet and beer, respectively. I drum my fingers anxiously on the bar top. The last time I was here, I was nearly killed. I can't be blamed if being here again doesn't fill me with warm fuzzies.

When the bartender walks out of earshot to fill our drink orders, Faith gives Bill an easy grin. "Ah, c'mon Billie. We're all friends here," she coaxes. "Besides, we could always just ask Sookie what's up with your face." She leans into the waist-high bar top. "I'm sure she'd _just love_ to know how her boyfriend's face can go all bumpy and lumpy."

Bill's eyes narrow as he looks between the two of us. He still doesn't know that I'm the only one with powers, and I'm hoping we haven't crossed a line with him. And if he does turn on us, I really haven't had the opportunity to see if I still _have _my strength or if it was just a vampire-blood hangover.

When the bartender comes back with our alcohol, Bill gallantly pays for our drinks.

No one talks and it's a long, awkward moment. Finally the vampire sighs, conceding to our question. "The state of Louisiana, as I'm sure you know, holds much magic and a special relationship with the occult," he begins. He rakes his fingers through his dark, shaggy hair and looks unhappy to be caving to our question. "It reaches far back before the first white settlers ever made their way here," he explains. "There's a magic in this area that allows super-naturals to remain more…more _human_ than they would in other places of the world."

He pauses to sip from his bottle of True Blood. I can almost see the thick liquid pour down his throat. I shudder, even though I know it's synthetic blood. Watching vampires drink, whether it be pig's blood or human's blood has always made me queasy.

"Werewolves and other shape-shifters don't automatically shift to their animal forms during full moons," Bill continues in his gave tone, "although they're certainly more volatile than other parts of the month. And as for we vampires, when we show our true selves, only our fangs distend."

I nod, letting his words sink in. It's quite the revelation, actually. Living in Louisiana makes them more human. That must explain then why when I killed that vampire in the parking lot of Merlotte's he exploded like a water balloon rather than dusting. Or why ancient vampires like Eric don't have more demon-like features like Kakistos or the Master did. And why Bill doesn't seem like a bad guy even though I'm sure he's Soulless.

Faith leans toward Bill, her fingers toying with her well drink. "So what other _human_ advantages do vampires have living here?"

The vampire's lips purse together. "I believe that's all you need to know. You asked about my teeth. And I answered."

My darker colleague bats her eyes playfully. "So can you guys, like, go out in the sun because of this magic?" she prods. "Does your skin _sparkle like diamonds_?"

Bill fails to comprehend my slaying-partner's attempt at humor. His face is its normal stoical slate. "No," he deadpans. "We are still vulnerable to the light. Although from what I hear, the Louisiana sun is more kind to vampires than in other parts of the world."

"Why don't all vampires live in Louisiana then?" I ask. It seems like with all the magical benefits, this state would be overrun with the undead.

"With this added humanity, we are more vulnerable than in other environments," our undead host notes. "For example, I require sleep during daylight hours, or else I grow weak. When I lived elsewhere, I did not have to rest for days at a time. But more than this, not everyone wants to be reminded of their humanity," Bill explains, spreading his hands. "They view humans as pathetic and overly emotional. I live here because this is my home. My family has always lived in Bon Temps, and now so do I."

I hear someone clucking their tongue on the roof of their mouth: "I hope you're not telling these girls _all _our secrets, Bill."

Our vampire escort stands up quickly from the barstool. "Eric," he mumbles. "It's good to see you again."

The statuesque blond stands impressively before us. His blonde hair is slicked back away from his handsome, cold face. He wears black jeans, a leather jacket, and dark maroon t-shirt. The undead Viking nods curtly at the three of us. "Bill," he greets. "Slayers," he adds in a quiet voice. "Follow me. I've had Pam pull up the women's restroom tapes from that night."

We obediently follow the Nordic-looking vampire through the bar and into an employee back room. Pam is seated at a desk in front of six small television monitors, each displaying the activities of the bar.

"You may not want to relive this, Slayer," Eric breathes. "I'll understand if you need to look away."

I stare defiantly at the tall vampire. "Just press play," I challenge.

Eric gives me an amused grin and then nods at Pam. She presses a button on a small panel and one of the black and white monitors comes to life. The tape is slightly grainy, but I can see it's clearly me walking through the bathroom door.

I watch as I walk toward the bathroom sinks and splash water on my face. It's a little surreal to be watching myself on this small screen. I remember being scared then that Eric might catch me with his thrall and that I would embarrass myself in front of Faith. If I hadn't been so nervous about saving face in front of my sister-Slayer, none of this would have happened.

A dark form steps out of one of the bathroom stalls, but the girl on the tape doesn't notice it. She's too busy staring at the mirror and worrying. Although it's the women's bathroom, the stranger's body is clearly masculine…or some gigantic biker chick.

When the man, yes I decide it's a man, steps behind me, I watch as he shoves me hard into the bathroom vanity. The tape has no sound, but I remember yelling out in annoyance at whomever had pushed me. I remember the knee connecting with the back of my tender knee as I watch myself stumble onto the ground in the tape.

And then the kicking begins. I watch my body jolt and jar with every bone-crushing kick to my ribs and my spine. My arms try to deflect the blows, but they're too numerous. The man grabs one of my arms and pulls it back at an unforgiving angle. I'm sure he dislocated my shoulder with that move as I witness the bones hanging loose in my skin.

Faith tenses besides me. I hear her mumble under her breath about killing the bastard who did this to me. I flush warm. Faith would kill someone for me. Should I be happy about that? Oddly, I am.

I hear a gasp when the man picks up my battered form and throws my body across the bathroom, sending it crashing into one of the bathroom stalls. It's my own gasp. I watch myself being tossed around like a rag doll. How I haven't lost consciousness in the tape by now is beyond me.

We disappear off camera. This is when he's slamming my head against a toilet, I remember with a sickening shudder. This is when he continues to kick my wasted body. Despite my morbid curiosity, I'm thankful that the final moments occurred off-screen. I don't think I could watch myself go through that.

There's a silence amongst us all when Pam finally pauses the tape.

"How did he get out?" Bill asks in a strained voice, breaking the uncomfortable moment. "Buffy was the only one in there when we all rushed in," he points out. "How did we not see him exit the bathroom before Sookie went in?"

Eric looks cross. "I don't know," he mumbles. "The window perhaps."

"Do you recognize him?" Bill asks Eric.

The tall blond vampire frowns deeply. "He's no vampire. At least I've never seen him before."

"What was that on his jacket?" I ask, hoping it might provide a clue. For having just relived getting my ass kick, I'm feeling strangely calm.

Eric motions to Pam who quickly rewinds the security tape. She plays it again. The part where my head is getting smashed into the bathroom tiles.

I feel Eric's body tense. Okay, maybe clues aren't a good idea. "Werewolf," he growls out, and I can hear the ice just in the single word.

"Werewolf?" Faith interjects. "How can you tell?"

Eric steps closer to the monitor and points to the patch on the back of the man's denim jacket. "This design isn't from some random backwoods biker gang."

He looks thoughtful and continues to speak, more to himself than anyone in the room. "Why a werewolf would want to attack a Slayer is beyond me. Or how they knew you were here, for that matter. I have some trustworthy werewolf contacts I'll get in touch with about this. One of them owes me a debt on which I've yet to collect."

I give the Nordic vampire an odd look. "It's not that I'm not thankful," I begin with careful words, "but why would you want to help us?"

"You were injured at my bar," he states in a flat, uninterested voice. "Plus, I have no stomach for werewolves. They think themselves superior and have no fear or courtesy for the law of us super-naturals. It would be good to knock them down a peg for thinking they can come into my business and injure my patrons."

"But I'm not just some patron," I point out. "I mean, you know we're Slayers."

The undead man nods solemnly. "I think you'll find, Slayer, that you have many allies among the more ancient of my kind. Not all are so eager to kill humans. And not all are so hell-bent on destroying you, either." He purses his lips and his mouth curls into a cruel smile. "Your kind does seem to serve a purpose, after all."

"And what might that _purpose_ be?" my darker colleague asks with a defiant snort.

He turns to her, his face serious. "I'm not of the mind that my kind should overpopulate the earth. There are some I come across who embarrass me; who are unworthy of this gift."

He grunts. "Vampires should not, for example, have reality television shows. It's completely ludicrous. We are a secret, ancient people not to be paraded around. And slayers help…regulate our population, let's say. Population control," he notes with a wide, toothy smile. "Besides," he says with a dismissive wave, "you Slayers only ever kill the young, foolish ones."

Faith automatically opens her mouth, I'm sure to brag about kills like Kakistos and the Master, but I elbow her sharply in the ribs. If Eric is willing to help us because of 'population control' no need to point out his misinformation about what we really do.

Besides, I'm still the only one with powers here, and I'm in a room with three very old, very powerful vampires.

The following morning is uneventful. Faith has been quieter than usual, her easy confidence and bravado silenced ever since we…well, you know.

I spend the late morning at the coin laundry while Faith stays back at the motel. It's not that she didn't offer to help me, though. I told her to stay behind. I figured a little space and time on our own would be good for us. But I won't lie and say it didn't sting just a little when she agreed to stay behind. Her face looked almost relieved, in fact.

When I walk into the Laundromat, I thankfully don't recognize anyone. The coin laundry is a small building with only a handful of ancient-looking washers and dryers lining the yellowed walls. But as long as they can get the smell of cigarette smoke and sweat out of our clothes, I won't complain.

With Sookie's pressing, Bill lent his car to us for the day. We should be getting our car back soon from Mr. MacFarlen's shop, but I desperately needed to do laundry today. Sookie offered her own machines, but I didn't want to impose on her. Or let her see Faith's underwear. When Bill tried to gently protest us borrowing the car, his sharp-tongued girlfriend pointed out that he wouldn't need it during the daylight hours.

Driving the black, luxury vehicle was nerve-racking. My driving record has gotten marginally better since Sunnydale. But luckily there weren't many things on the short drive from Merlotte's motel to the Laundromat that I could run into.

Bits of the weekly newspaper litter the hard plastic chairs, so after I toss a few loads of clothes into some of the vacant washing machines, I sit down to catch up on the latest town news. It doesn't surprise me that the recent murders are the front-page story. An event like this would have been explained away in Sunnydale, but it's clear from the journalism that Bon Temps isn't used to this sort of thing.

Both women with their hearts torn out. Both women from out of town. Both women found near or in Merlotte's. The story said the police had taken suspects in for questioning, but the article didn't give their names. It didn't make much sense to me why the paper or police would try to keep the investigation quiet, however. I mean, in a small town like Bon Temps, everyone was bound to know that the cops had taken Sam Merlotte into custody.

Sookie would be going to the police station that afternoon with the lawyer she had found to see if they could get Sam out of jail. No one knew if he'd been formally charged of anything; apparently the Bon Temps police force had an unsavory habit of just locking people away.

Faith and I were to meet up with her after our errands had been finished and go from there. Which meant that I didn't have a lot of time to talk to my Boston partner about what had happened between us the previous night.

I could choose to let it pass. And if I had any sense about me, that's probably what I should do. Pretend like it hadn't happened. Faith was quieter than usual, but we hadn't fought about it; we hadn't even mentioned it, in fact.

But that's not what I do. I don't just let things go. No, I have to talk it to death. I have to kick the proverbial dead horse. Because that's just what I do.

"Honey, I'm home!" I chirp out, struggling slightly to close the motel door behind me with a nudge of my foot. The stacks of clean laundry threaten to spill out of my full arms, but with the return of my slayer grace, I manage to make it over to the unmade motel bed before the tank tops and t-shirts fall out of my arms.

The sight of the unmade bed causes me to pause momentarily. I swear I made it before leaving that morning. Maybe Faith took a nap though, I reason with a shrug.

I hear someone clear their throat and I spin on my heels to face the direction of the noise. A bronzed man sits at the small table and chair on the opposite side of the room. He's in a t-shirt and tight blue jeans, lacing up his dirty sneakers.

I had walked past him without noticing due to the stack of laundry and fumbling with the door.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry," I sputter out. I scan around the room, wildly disoriented. This _is _my room, right? I momentarily panic that I've entered someone else's room or we've been unexpectedly vacated.

He stands up and flashes me a white, brilliant smile, showing off his straight teeth. The people down here seem to be mindful of dental hygiene, despite the stereotypes. His shoulders are broad and his muscled biceps strain under the confines of his white t-shirt. "Hey there," he greets me with an extended hand. "I'm J.R. I live just a few doors down."

A flood of relief passes over me. I'm in the right room. But that still doesn't explain why he's in _my _room.

His boyishly handsome face becomes embarrassed and he drops his hand when I don't take it. "I'm sorry," he apologizes with outspread hands. "I didn't realize Faith had a roommate.

Faith.

I turn, looking for her. And as if on cue, she saunters out of the bathroom.

She's braless, as usual, in the tank top and boi underwear she was wearing when I'd left her that morning. Her hair is thrown up in a haphazard ponytail.

When the realization of what happened in my absence hits me, the room spins and I feel hot bile creep up my throat.

_Faith fucked J.R._

The boy in question looks between us, his piercing blue eyes filled with unease and confusion. "Well, I, uh, I'm gonna be taking off now," he drawls in a thick tone. He flashes his eyes one more to look at Faith. Her gaze is emotionless. Stoical.

"Right." He nods in my direction. "Nice to meet ya'll."

I watch him stumble out the front door and hear the rusty shriek of the screen door's hinges protest as the door slams close.

I turn, slowly, to face Faith. The noncommittal look she gave J.R. is now replaced with a wolfish leer. I know this face too well. And it reminds me too much of the year 1999 for my sanity.

I don't bother to open my mouth and give her the satisfaction of a Buffy Summers tirade. I open my right hand instead, which had become a tightly clenched fist after I watched her walk out of the bathroom. After I had realized what she'd done.

And I slap her across the face.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Buffy POV**

It's like slow motion, watching my hand slice through the air until it strikes across Faith's upper cheek. This is no half-assed Bitch Slap; this has my Slayer strength behind it. Faith's head twists like a swivel on her neck, and she staggers backwards from the blow. I don't even care in this moment that I'm fiercely stronger than her. She deserves this.

Not one to take a beatdown, however, she defiantly rights herself and glares at me. Her fingers go to her plush lips, and I can see the liquid stain of blood on her fingertips. Her teeth must have bit into her inner cheek.

"What the fuck was that for?" she cries out in a hysterically high-pitched voice.

I won't allow her to play naïve with me. She had to know how I'd react, even before she did it. I mean, she didn't even _try _to hide or make some excuse for why that guy had been in our room. I didn't need any other evidence – I knew he'd been in our bed…with her.

I might as well burn the sheets because no coin laundry will be able to get those stains out.

"I don't have to say it," I growl, working hard to contain the red-hot rage she's created inside of me. "You know what you did." The palm and fingers on my right hand sting from slapping her, and I shake my hand out near my side.

Faith's unexpectedly quiet while I continue to seethe. I can't tell what she's thinking; her eyes are dark and cloudy, however, so it can't be good thoughts. After a long, hard moment, she turns her back on me and grabs a pair of jeans from the stack of clothes I'd just spent the morning washing.

It's so like her. It's always been like this, even from the start. I'm the one who does all the work, and she's the one…fucking random guys.

The quiet and her calmness pisses me off even more than if we'd started yelling at each other. I grab onto her elbow and forcibly spin her around so she's facing me again. "You can't ignore this," I spit.

Faith looks down at my hand on her elbow, and she curtly shrugs me away. "I can do whatever I damn well please to," she states quietly between clenched teeth.

I stand there, a little stunned, and watch her quickly dress in dark jeans and a clean t-shirt. When she grabs her wallet and her motel key from the table, I snap out of my daze. I bound across the room before she's able to freely leave. She's opened the door and her hand is on the handle. I grab her bicep, stopping her retreat.

"Where do you think you're going?" I demand in a harsh, strained voice. I want so much to hurt her like she's just hurt me.

She turns just her head to look at me. I swear I see tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "You gonna _make_ me stay, B?" She laughs in my face and I hear nothing but bitterness in her voice. "You gonna _hit me_ again until I do what you want me to do?"

Her words strike me harder than if she'd retaliated by punching me in the stomach. I let go of her arm and dejectedly drop my hand at my side. I've just become the abusive spouse.

She stands in the door jam another long moment as if challenging me to stop her. And then she walks out the front door without bothering to shut it behind her.

I watch her dangerous form stalk away in the direction of Merlotte's bar. Even though Sam's in jail, the staff has been holding down the fort in his absence. I don't bother to go after her. I need time to process all of this. And I'm sure she needs time to get drunk, although I wouldn't mind a strong drink right about now.

I turn away from the view of her walking away. But the bed is unmade and there's piles of clothes on top of the patterned bedspread. I can't stay in this room.

I grab my purse and the motel key and storm back down to Bill's parked car. I shouldn't be driving when I'm this angry, but I can't stand another moment in that room. And I can't go to Merlotte's since Faith's apparently claimed it for herself. I could always go jogging and run off my anger, but the last time I did that I got attacked by a dinosaur.

I decide to drive over to Sookie's house. I'm not sure if she'll be there – she was supposed to see if she could get Sam out of jail that morning. But even if she's not there, at least it's a destination and it gets me out of the motel for a little while.

If I knew where Sookie's brother lived, I might be tempted to visit him instead. I laugh bitterly. If Faith can fuck around with random Townies, then so can I. And I'm confident that Jason wouldn't toss me out of bed.

I drive down the county highway with the windows open and take a few deep breaths in an attempt to get my anger in check. The scenery flies by me in one long, green blur.

"_I don't have to stay here_, " I muse to myself. I don't have to help the people of Bon Temps figure out their heart-stealing mystery. I could just steal Bill's car and keep driving. I could drive until I ran out of gas and leave all this behind. Leave Faith behind.

But I've never been adept at running away. Well, not that far at least.

Sookie's yellow car is in the front driveway when I pull up to the grand, old-fashioned house. After parking Bill's car next to his girlfriend's, I stalk up the porch steps to find the Southern blonde standing behind the screen-door. She doesn't look surprised to see me, but then again, she could probably hear my anger miles away.

"Is this a bad time?" I ask through the screen door.

"No, but I can't tell that _you're _having a bad time," she states in a worried voice, opening the shrieking door to let me inside.

I walk through the foyer and turn right into the living room. I flop down on a worn couch and place my head in my hands. I can feel the couch sink slightly next to me where Sookie takes a seat.

"She's probably just afraid, you know," the blonde girl tries to reason with me. Her warm hand is comforting on my shoulder.

"Like I'm not scared, too?" I declare miserably, still with my head in my hands.

I should probably feel violated or at least a little freaked out that Sookie knows what just happened and why I showed up at her front door. But it's oddly comforting to not have to rehash the story. I don't think I'm even ready to admit that Faith and I…like I said, I can't even admit it to _myself_ left alone confide in anyone else.

Besides, it's _Faith_. What would my friends think if they knew? When they found out about Satsu and me, it had been awkward enough, and she hadn't given any of them reason to believe she was evil or would betray us.

And what does this mean for me? The last two people I've been intimate with were both girls. And I _really _liked it. So does that mean I'm _gay _now?

Faith and I. We had a history too long and too complicated to ever let something like this happen. I never should have let it go this far. I should have had the self-control to stop her. And yet it had. It had happened.

I have no idea how my friends will react to this. The fallout from Xander and Willow finding out about Satsu had been mildly painless. It had been more embarrassing than anything, really. But now with Faith….

Comparing Satsu to Faith was like comparing apples and oranges. And I hadn't even gotten a chance to taste the orange's juice.

"Okay, this is getting weird, even for me," Sookie chuckles.

I feel my face burn red. "Oh God."

"It's okay, Buffy. I just might never look at o.j. the same ever again," she winks playfully.

I clear my throat and desperately change the subject. "How's Sam?"

"Still in jail," the Southerner states with a small, twisted frown. "He had a trial this morning to set bail, but those damn hick cops convinced the judge that Sam's a flight risk."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It just means we gotta find the real killer sooner than later," she states in a chirping, hopeful voice. "Any leads?"

I shake my head. Between getting my powers back, the new werewolf intrigue, and lusting over Faith, it's left little time for sleuthing. Damn it. I should never have stayed at that party. All those half-naked people dancing and grinding under the moonlight had made it too hard to resist Faith. But it was my own fault for running away when Bill had shown up unexpectedly last night…before I could reciprocate what Faith had begun.

I can't help but remember the way she touched me. Her touch felt right. It felt like my body was suddenly discovering what had been missing all those years.

"You're bound and determined to make me blush again, aren't you?" Sookie interrupts my thoughts before my brain can go to a very distracted, very naked place. "We should probably track down Faith before we look into helpin' Sam. Otherwise I have a feelin' your mind's gonna be preoccupied all day."

I smile sheepishly. I _have_ been a little off my game lately.

Sookie pats my leg. "Let's go find your girl." She stands and gives me a small smirk. "Or do you need to change your underwear first?"

Merlotte's is fairly quiet when we walk through the entrance. I try to hide, using Sookie's curves to shield me from sight incase Faith is still here. Just a few couples are seated at the booths having lunch. No one looks up from their food and conversation as we walk by. The bar area has only three patrons seated, nursing local beer. But no Faith.

I'm surprised actually. I had expected to find her sitting at a bar stool with a sour frown, ordering shots and beer, downing one after the other. I had a big speech all planned for this moment. I'd apologize in a rambling kind of way. She'd look me up and down with wary eyes and a cynical smirk, give me a hard time, but then all would be forgiven.

Or at least that's how I'd imagined the scenario happening.

My stomach sinks. What if she was mad enough she went home with someone else? What if she went back to JR after a few drinks had calmed her down enough to get more revenge?

Sookie's fingers brush my arm. "I'm sure she wouldn't do that," she murmurs to me.

I give her a tight smile. She doesn't know Faith like I do. Because that's exactly the kind of thing Faith would do.

Arlene, the redheaded waitress we met our first night in Bon Temps is behind the bar. Her lips are moving rapidly like she's talking to herself and her eyes are narrowed in annoyance.

"Arlene," Sookie calls out from beside me. "Have you seen Buffy's friend, Faith, in here today?"

The red-haired woman looks increasingly cross at the mention of my sister-Slayer. I know how she feels. "She sure as hell did," Arlene complains. "Came in here a while ago, grumpier than a raccoon on fire."

"Do you happen to know where she went?" Sookie asks in a sweet and hopeful voice.

Arlene frowns and pours another patron a beer from the tappers. "She left about half an hour I think, with Tara."

Tara? My brain quickly connects the name with the devastatingly, beautiful bartender. Oh God. She's not fucking JR. She's fucking _Tara._

Sookie slaps me on the arm, hard enough that the bar's patrons turn to look at us.

"Would you stop that?" she complains in a sharp tone. "I've known Tara all my life and she's certainly not hoppin' into bed with your girlfriend."

Leers form on some of the men's faces as they overhear Sookie's heated rant. I shift uncomfortably. "She's _not _my girlfriend," I quietly point out between clenched teeth.

"Well if you'd quit pussy-footin' around and _make her _your girlfriend," she snaps at me, "we wouldn't have to be on this wild goose chase right now."

I press my lips tightly together. "Point taken."

"Arlene," Sookie turns back to the waitress behind the bar. "Did Tara say where they were goin'?"

"No," the bar employee scowls. "And she's supposed to be workin' right now. I'm a waitress, not a bartender, thank you very much." The surly woman looks at me. "All I know is that your friend came in and had a few drinks, and then she and Tara took off. With a bottle of Jack Daniels, I might add."

"Does Tara have a cell phone?" I ask.

Sookie shakes her head. "Not many people around here have cell phones. Doesn't make a whole lotta sense since reception around here is so patchy. Plus, Tara's always been bad with commitments. Don't think I could ever see her settlin' down with one calling plan," she jokes.

Her attempt at humor doesn't help lighten my mood, however. Something in my gut doesn't feel right about all of this. Sure Faith and Tara could just be off drinking like Arlene suggested, but it doesn't make sense that they'd leave a _bar _to go drink.

"Do you have a way to find Faith?" the blonde asks me, quickly sobering. I know she can hear the worry in my thoughts.

I nod once. I've always known how to find her. I just wasn't ready to find her before.

_Suggested Listening: 'Change (House of Flies)' by Deftones_

"We're all connected," I explain to the Southern waitress as we trample through the woods that surround Merlotte's bar. "We share dreams; we share memories of former Slayers throughout all of history. All Slayers can sense each other, too. But with Faith and I, for some reason, it's always been stronger than with the others."

"Oh," Sookie remarks, stepping over a fallen tree. "Kinda like Slayer GPS?"

"More like a game of Hot and Cold," I laugh to myself.

"Seems pretty handy," Sookie observes, following me under a low tree branch.

I nod, absentmindedly, allowing myself to be pulled in the direction of Faith. "It can be," I agree. "Like now for instance…tracking down each other, identifying friend from enemy. But this connection wasn't supposed to happen. There was never meant to be more than one Slayer at a time."

"What changed?" she asks me.

"It's a long story," I say, pushing ahead.

I pause, closing my eyes momentarily. Faith's energy is still there, but it seems altered somehow. I wonder what kind of trouble she's gotten herself into now.

"What is it?" Sookie asks from behind me. "Why'd you stop?"

"We're close," I murmur.

Somehow I'm not surprised when Faith's energy brings us to the clearing where we'd earlier stumbled upon that woman's pool party. The sun in high in the sky though, so I'm a little shocked to see so many people congregated around the chlorinated pool; don't these people have work?

Everything looks the same as before, but with subtle differences. The laughter and jubilation is the same and sounds loud in my ears. But when I really pause to take note of the party's guests, I'm suddenly confronted with what's different.

Where did everyone's clothes go?

Most people have stripped down to their underwear, with no sense of modesty as they dance and celebrate around the large pool. Couples and threesomes have split off from the main party, making out and enjoying each other in more…intimate ways.

The music pounds through the sound system, but the playlist has gotten alarmingly darker. The linen tables that outline the pool area are still there. But the piles of perfectly arranged fruit that I remembered from before are now in disarray. Flies swarm around the scattered, rotting food and I nearly gag from the sight and smell as Sookie and I carefully tread into the heart of the celebrating.

Have these people been partying non-stop ever since last night?

I scan the sea of naked flesh, trying to find Faith in this chaos of sweaty bodies. When I see her, it's almost like the Red Sea parting. Swaying, dancing bodies move out of the way, and I'm affronted with a clear view of my slaying partner.

She's dancing, with her eyes closed, in the center of a swaying group of three muscled men, clad only in their underwear. Faith's still in the clothes that I last saw her in. She hasn't abandoned the low-rise jeans that hang vicariously below her hipbones. But the t-shirt is gone and she hadn't bothered to put on a bra before she left the motel. Even from this distance I can see the detailed ripple of her taut abdomen as her hips shake back and forth in a slow, calculated grind along with the music.

Her eyes open suddenly, and I know she can feel me. She pushes the men out of the way, seemingly oblivious or uncaring that everyone can see her naked breasts. She stalks over to where I'm standing, frozen and dumbstruck. I think Sookie is close by, but I can't be sure. All I can do is focus on the way her well-formed breasts gently bob as she walks toward me.

"Took ya long enough, girlfriend," she grins manically at me.

"Faith," I hiss with mock horror and modesty. "Where's your shirt?" I want to cover her up with something, but I only have hands, and if I cover up her breasts with my hands…oh God.

The wide, joker-like grin doesn't fall from her face, but only gets larger. Her dimples come out in full-force. "Come dance with me, B," she instructs. "Or, we could find someplace to continue what we started last night?"

"I didn't come for that," I insist, my voice wavering. My words might say one thing, but I can't tear my gaze away from her naked torso.

Faith's body starts to flow along with the music again, and I feel mesmerized by the rhythmic motion of her unbound breasts. They're perfectly proportioned for her body type – not too big, not too small. Even without a bra, they stand high and proud on her chest. I've never allowed myself to really appreciate their perfection, even with as many times I've seen her strut around naked these past few weeks on the road with her.

"Then what _will _you come for?" she asks in a low voice.

Her eyes look darker than I've ever seen them before. Her double entendre isn't lost on me. She writhes in front of me to the slow, heavy song blaring over the speakers. If she can wiggle this well on her feet, I can hardly imagine what she can do horizontally. But I do let myself…imagine, that is.

"C'mon," I say curtly, grabbing hold of her wrist and tugging slightly. "Find your shirt. We're leaving."

"No _we_'_re _not." Faith pulls her hand out of my grasp and looks indignant. "Listen, cupcake, you can go off and do whatever the fuck you want, but I'm done. I'm done with all your shit."

My jaw goes a little slack. "You're seriously just going to run away from all of this?" I demand incredulously.

"_I'm_ not the one who went fuckin' scampering away like a scared rabbit," she points out with a slight sneer.

I narrow my eyes. How dare she try to blame me for all of this. Sure, I'm partially to blame; but it's not like she's without sin.

"No," I retort with smug satisfaction, "you were just the one who went fucking the next piece of meat."

"Yeah, well –,"

"This is getting us no where," I interrupt in a huff. "We just keep having the same conversation over and over. Nothing ever changes with us. _We _can't change."

She tosses her hands up in the air, and makes an exasperated sound. "Yeah, cause tryin' to reason with you is like hitting your head on a brick wall over and over again."

"I wouldn't mind hitting your head into a brick wall," I mutter bitterly, crossing my arms across my chest.

"Listen, just because you've got your powers back and I don't…" Her body begins to shake from anger. "Fuck…I don't need this," she snarls, cutting herself off. "I should have known it was a mistake to think that maybe you finally saw me as an equal."

I feel a tug on my sleeve. It's Sookie. Her eyes shift back and forth nervously. "Uh…Buffy?" she murmurs. "I think we should get goin' soon."

I've been so preoccupied by my heated conversation with Faith, I haven't noticed that the party has suddenly turned into an all-out orgy. Men and women. Women and women. Men and women and women and men and…My eyes go wide as I take in my surroundings. It's like a spontaneous porno just exploded around and _in _the pool.

I swallow hard. Yeah, we have to go. I grab for Faith's arm once more.

"Damn it, B," she bellows, pulling away from me again. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Faith's loud outburst has caught the attention of several partygoers. Most couples continue their…activities, but a few of those in close proximity stop and seem to take an interest in our argument.

A muscled man with sandy hair and beard, who I recognize as one of the line-cooks at Merlotte's, approaches me. He's wearing only cut-off denim shorts. "Well hey there, little lady," he drawls. "What's all the ruckus about over here? We don't take kindly to party-crashers ya know."

"We were just going," I say firmly. I look at his face and have to do a doubletake. His eyes look black as night, but it's got to be a trick of light or special contacts.

The man glances between Faith and me with a small smile on his thin lips. "I don't think your friend is ready to leave just yet."

"Well, I'm not leaving her here," I stubbornly protest.

"I don't think you have much choice."

The man growls quietly and makes a grab for me. He telegraphs his advance, however, so when I duck, his muscled arms widely miss me. The middle-aged cook stumbles forward from his own inertia, and I take the opportunity to kick him squarely between his shoulder blades, sending him flying. I'm not about to ponder why I'm getting physically attacked at an orgy. Instead, my instincts take over. He lands hard on his front, skidding a few feet on the grass.

I hear a few people cheer and laugh as the shirtless man pulls himself off of the ground and shakes his head roughly. He rights himself, straightening his shoulders and glares at me. It nearly sends shivers down my spine; it's no lighting trick – his eyes are _definitely _black.

"Buffy!" I hear Sookie call out my name as a handful of townsfolk, all with eyes as black as charcoal, slowly surround me.

"Sookie! Go!" I immediately order the defenseless girl.

There's too many people surrounding me; I can't see if she's run off or stupidly stayed behind. I think I can get out of this mess, but I can't if I'm worrying about her safety. I feel a little bit like a victim getting overtaken by a group of flesh-eating zombies. I can only hope that this half-naked group of Southerners doesn't feed on brains.

I easily knock a few of the townsfolk backwards, thankful to have my Slayer strength back. They seem oblivious to pain, however. Rather than staying down when I catch their jaw with an uppercut or a well-placed boot, they bounce back up.

The circle continues to tighten around me, constricting like a snake wrapping around its prey. Four sets of arms clamp on my arms and shoulders. I struggle to break free, but every time I knock a set of hands away, another appears to take its place.

The front of the circle opens, and Faith calmly steps into the belly of the beast. An ugly snarl mars her normally beautiful features.

"What the hell is going on, Faith?" I demand, wiggling uselessly beneath the stronghold of half the town.

"Let her go," she states solemnly. Amazingly, the hands that hold me, immediately release their grasp.

"Did you really need the help of everyone in Bon Temps just to get the best of me?" I challenge angrily. I rub at my tender limbs, although I'm positive the danger has not yet passed.

I feel two hands in the center of my back and I'm pushed forward. I stumble slightly and find myself kneeing in front of Faith. The earth feels damp on my bare knees.

"Always wanted you like this," she snarls with a curled lip. She tilts her head to one side, regarding me for a moment.

If hitting her this morning happened in slow motion for me, watching her hit _me _happens in the same way. I watch her look down at her right hand. Her fingers curl and flex and come to a stop to form a lightly clenched fist. Her arm and fist cock backwards. I watch the strong muscles in her toned bicep flex. And then a bright white light fills my eyes when her hand connects with my face.

My body flies backwards through the air until my ass crashes into one of the buffet tables. Rotting fruit flies around me, landing in my hair, on my clothes, and in the pool. My right cheekbone aches and I feel an instant bruise swelling.

Before I can pick myself back up, Faith's hands are at the collar of my t-shirt, yanking me up into the sky. She's taller than me, and when she lifts me, my feet leave the ground. I hear the flimsy cotton material of my top tear from the stress of my weight.

"I owe you pain," she says in a quiet, calm voice.

I swallow hard when I look into her black, emotionless eyes. _ Faith doesn't live here anymore._

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Buffy POV**

_Suggested Listening: 'Judith' – A Perfect Circle_

"So, this is what it would look like if I was taller," I muse aloud.

"Did you not _hear _me?" Faith snarls. "_I owe you pain_."

"And I'm sure you've come to collect," I reply.

My stupid mouth doesn't seem to realize that this is no time for jokes. But this is what I do in the face of danger. It's like a survival mechanism or something. I banter.

And I can't stop concentrating on the way my feet dangle from this height. It's like I'm a marionette, except nobody's pulling my strings. Although I've got a hunch that somebody's pulling Faith's.

"You don't want to do this," I state in what I hope is a calm, collected voice.

"You have no idea how much I do," she states, tightening her grip on the strained collar of my t-shirt.

My brain is reeling. Too many thoughts are crashing through my head right now: First, this party went from an orgy to a zombie feeding frenzy. If I get out of this, I'm resolving to stay away from all parties. Birthday parties….Welcome-Home-From-Running-Away parties…Graduation parties…Baby showers…Nothing good can come from parties. Secondly, there seems to have been a sale on blackout contacts at Costco and I didn't get the memo. Thirdly, Faith has her strength back, and she's hell-bent on testing it out on me. And lastly, I just washed these pants, and now I've got rotten cantaloupe on my ass. I hope it doesn't stain because I really liked these jeans.

Now's not the time for thoughts, however. My brain's never been a strength of mine, anyway. It's always been my body.

In one quick, fluid motion, I pull my legs up and position my feet so they're flat against Faith's upper thighs. I push off of her body, using her legs as a springboard. Her hands are still tightly fastened to my top, and I wince when I hear my t-shirt tear once again when I wretch my body away from her. By the end of this, I might not have anything to cover up with. My top might be in tattered ruins, but at least it worked. I'm free of Faith's grip and I take a defensive fighting stance.

I'm mildly surprised when none of the possessed townsfolk clamber after me when I escape her grasp. Some of the group has dispersed and gone back to who-the-hell-knows-what, but an eager handful remains to observe what is bound to be a legendary confrontation. It's like my sister-Slayer is the Alpha dog and they're allowing her to be the one to take me down.

Not that I even know what I did to get them all riled up. All I wanted was to get Faith home and put a shirt on her. Is that really a punishable crime? I mean, sure, she's got a nice rack. Okay…so it's like a glorious, hand-crafted-by-God kind of rack, but really. Do I deserve a beat-down for it?

"You have your Powers back," I observe, stating the obvious.

"Don't look so disappointed, B." She gives me that same manic smile as before. "Don't tell me you were gettin' used to being The Only Girl in All the World again?"

I take a step to the side and we begin to cautiously pace in a wide, looping circle. It's been a while since I've sparred against her. It's been a while since I've physically fought someone I cared for, so it makes me hesitate. When you're fighting a vampire or any other kind of demon, you don't really care what happens to their body. You fight to win. But when you're fighting a friend…a lover…it's a whole new can of worms.

"That's not who I am anymore," I try to convince her. Maybe I can get through to her and we don't have to do this. "I never really wanted to be the Chosen One in the first place," I insist.

"You can't kid a kidder, B," she snaps in reply. "You never wanted _me _to be a Slayer. You and Red probably had this whole thing planned all along. Take us up to Oz's spa retreat and strip everyone of their powers."

Of all the idiotic…I can't _believe_ this girl.

"But _everyone _lost their powers," I point out, still eyeballing her warily. If I keep her talking, it gives me more time to figure my way out of this. "Even Willow and myself."

"But you found a way to get yours back," she states, narrowing her blackened eyes. "And I bet Willow's got her magic back, too."

"Is that what you really think?" I ask in a shrill voice. I momentarily drop my guard. She can't honestly believe any of that, can she? "You really think that everything we've been doing has been so only Willow and I have strength? It was _my_ idea in the first place to use the Scythe to charge up the Potentials," I point out.

She gives me a curt shrug. "Wouldn't be the first time you've done something shady to get what you want."

I throw my hands in the air. "Right. Because that's _exactly_ what I want," I deadpan. "The weight of the world on my shoulders again."

"The weight of the world _never left_ your shoulders, B," she vehemently protests. "Even if _ten thousand _girls were Slayers, you still wouldn't just…" she struggles with the word, "retire…let someone else shoulder the burden for a while. You've always needed to be in control. Always had to be the girl on top."

"I guess that's why you and I would never work out," I bitterly quip. "I can't imagine you as a Bottom."

Faith laughs, but it's hollow and humorless. "Just one of the _many_ reasons why you and I don't work, Princess."

I don't see any way around it. I'm just going to have to kick the crap out of her.

"You could at least put on a tank top if we're gonna do this," I remark as we continue to walk in careful circles around each other.

She smirks at that. "Why, B?" she taunts and bounces on the balls of her feet, so her breasts slightly undulate. "My tits too much of a distraction for you?"

"No," I counter, "I'd just hate to ruin them."

She closes her fists tightly at her sides and bares her teeth. And when she comes wildly charging toward me, I brace myself for the impact.

When I regain consciousness, I'm tied to an uncomfortable chair. My ankles are strapped to the back legs and my wrists are bound behind my back. If I suffer any more concussions during this trip, I'm gonna have brain damage.

I'm not sure how she beat me, but she did. She fought with an unbridled rage as though she didn't care what happened to either of us. The last thing I remember is getting tossed through the air for the umpteenth time. Sure my tiny body looks pretty nice in a bikini, but my slight weight makes it all the easier to get tossed across a room, or a pool, or a football field.

I blink a few times, allowing my eyes to adjust to the light fixture above my head. I half expected to wake up in a dark cell with a single, naked bulb swinging over me. But instead, I'm in what looks like a living room. There's a flat-panel television in one corner of the room. The hardwood floors look freshly polished and the furniture looks warm and inviting.

And standing before me with the biggest shit-eating-grin is Faith. I might feel slightly relieved that it's just her; but when I look into those black, emotionless eyes, relief is the furthest emotion from my mind.

"Glad you could rejoin the party, B."

Faith calmly pulls up a dining room chair near where I'm bound. She swivels the wooden chair around and straddles it.

"How did you do it?" I ask.

"Beat you?" She raises an eyebrow and gives me a lazy grin. Her body language would normally put me at ease, but those black, foreboding eyes keep glaring at me.

"No," I snort indignantly. "Get your powers back."

She shrugs her shoulders. At least she's wearing a tank top now, even if she's still without a bra. Her breasts seem to defy gravity. "Don't know. Don't care."

I flick my eyes around the open area quickly and strain my hearing to ascertain if we're here alone. The house, or at least the immediate vicinity seems empty besides us. I worry whose home we've taken over and what Faith had to do to procure it.

"Where's Sookie?" I finally ask.

"Why do you care about _her?_" Faith's voice suddenly becomes angry and she hops up from her chair, knocking it over."You just can't keep it in your pants, can you, Blondie? Givin' it up to any girl that'll have you."

I laugh bitterly. "_I'm_ not the one with that problem. _You're_ the one who couldn't wait for me to leave so you could go reaffirm your heterosexuality with the next guy with anything hanging between his legs."

Okay. I might have deserved that punch.

My body, and the chair I'm tied to, fall over backwards and my head bounces off on the hardwood floors when I land on my back. Unfortunately, my chair seems to be made of titanium and not the wood I had expected to easily shatter. Well, there goes _that _plan.

Faith looms over me. Her body seems cast in an unnatural darkness as her angry form blocks out the overhead light. She reaches down and grabs me by the shoulders, pulling me and my chair back to its original position. I'm lucky she doesn't dislocate my arms just for fun, I suppose.

"I'm not supposed to kill you," she growls, her words startling me, "but I suppose it won't hurt if the meat is a little…tenderized."

I watch in horror as she backhands me. My chair teeters again, but I remain upright. My right cheekbone stings from the impact, and I wonder where else I'm bruised.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask. My voice sounds needy and pathetic.

She grins down on me, her lips sardonically twisted. _"Because I can."_

The punches and the backhanded blows seem to rain down on me now, relentlessly. I lose count and I'm sure I'm about to lose consciousness soon. Although she's only striking my face, it feels like she's hurting my entire body. I feel so helpless. So…entirely exhausted.

My possessed sister-Slayer pauses long enough to crouch in front of me. Her face is inches from my own. I can feel the warm trickle of my own blood on the side of my face from where her blows have ruptured my skin.

I inwardly recoil when I see her tongue snake out from between her plush lips. With one long, languid stroke, she licks the blood away from my deeply bruised cheek.

"Mmm…" she growls, "you taste delicious, girlfriend. But then again," she winks darkly, "I already knew that."

A voice from behind Faith's crouching form startles me. I'd thought we were alone in the room. "And pretty soon, we'll all know just how delicious you really are."

My eyelids are swollen from Faith's merciless fists and threatening to close up, but I manage to see MaryAnn appear in the dining room. Her face is perfectly made up and her lips are twisted in a queer smile. Her dark brunette locks fall in soft curls on her bare shoulders. She's wearing another loose, linen dress that hangs on her curvy form. And gripped loosely in her right hand is one of the largest kitchen knives I've ever seen.

"What do you want with me?" I struggle uselessly against the tight knots at my wrists.

I melodic laugh bubbles out her painted lips. "I thought it would be painfully obviously by now." She pauses to lick her lips and give me a mirthful smile. "I want your heart, Slayer."

"My-my heart?" I say the words, my ears not believing what they heard. This woman, this innocuous-looking woman has been the monster stealing people's hearts?

"Yes, Slayer," she smiles. "We're going to eat you."

"_Eat me?_" I repeat, aghast. "Who's _we_?"

Faith stands up and takes a step backwards so she's standing next to MaryAnn. A cold chill runs down my spine. _Uh oh. _

"I suppose I should thank you for sending me Faith," MaryAnn murmurs lowly. She gives my sister-Slayer a wide smile and absent-mindedly touches her loose hair between her fingers. "I had no idea there was a Slayer in Bon Temps, let alone two."

"W-why do you want my heart?" I sputter out. "What do you want with us?" My hands work feverishly behind my back, but I'm bound too tightly. My wrists feel raw from the nylon rope, but I continue regardless. Who the hell cares about wrists when your heart is at stake?

MaryAnn slowly licks her lower lip while looking at me. Normally that would be kind of a turn on, but not when she wants to _eat me_ in the total cannibalistic way, not legs spread apart, head thrown back in ecstasy kind of way.

"I need your heart," she states in an even tone. "I need your strength. The Slayer is a true warrior. And only the _best_ sacrifice will make me a worthy bride for my god."

"Sacrifice? God?"

She smiles pleasantly, an odd reaction for someone who wants to carve me up and serve me at the all you can eat Buffy-buffet.

Her painted mouth forms a strange word: "Dionysus."

I really should have paid better attention in school; that name means nothing to me.

My mind is taken away from high school memories, however, when the front door of my prison flies open with a loud crack. The door had been dead-bolted, but the frame splinters like it's made out of…something that shatters easily.

I see a dark blur, a form moving so quickly, its features are unfocused. Both MaryAnn and Faith look alarmed, jumping away from me and narrowing their eyes on the moving blob.

Behind the mysterious form, Jason and Sookie Stackhouse charge in. Jason looks like a recruit from the backwoods militia, a two-barrel shotgun in his hands and extra ammunition strapped to his chest. Sookie is unarmed, but she doesn't need a weapon. She's got Bill. The blur stops moving and I suddenly recognize the Southern vampire.

Faith growls and moves to pounce on Jason. He's ready for her advance, however, and cracks her skull with the butt of his gun. She immediately slumps and falls to the floor.

Sookie scrambles over to me and begins to work at the knots at my wrists. I know the waitress won't be able to free me, however. Faith tied the binds so that not even I could wiggle out.

I hear the blonde waitress quietly curse, her fingers digging at the rope around my wrists.

"Hurry it up, Sook!" Jason yells, his gun wavering between MaryAnn and Faith, whose body slightly stirs as though she's about to become conscious again.

Sookie cries out in alarm when MaryAnn grabs her hands away from my wrists.

MaryAnn clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Now why would you want to go and do a thing like that?" the crazed woman asks in a cruel, yet even voice.

"Let go!" Sookie yells.

Her hands come in contact with MaryAnn's face as she pushes herself away from the strange woman. A flash of white light explodes in the space between Sookie's hands and MaryAnn's face. The elder woman looks momentarily stunned and then gives the waitress a curious smile as Sookie runs behind her vampire boyfriend for protection. Bill wastes little time and hastily tears the ropes away from my wrists with an even tug.

"What _are _you?" MaryAnn asks in a peculiar voice.

"I'm so _sick _of that question!" Sookie hollers. "How many times do I have to say it? I'm a _waitress._"

Sookie is the first one out the door with her brother close behind. "C'mon, Buffy," he yells at me. "We gotta move."

I'm stuck to the floor though, watching Faith start to pull herself off of the hardwood floors. She's sure to have a bruise on her cheekbones from Jason's well-aimed strike. I feel the vampire clamp his hands at my waist and begin to pull me toward the exit.

"No!" I protest, struggling against Bill's strength. "I won't leave without Faith."

"We'll come back for her," he growls lowly in my ear. "For now, we've got to get you out of here."

I look up when Sookie pushes a warm cup of herbal tea into my shaking hands. "How did you find me?" I ask.

The waitress sits down slowly next to me on the couch in the middle of her grandmother's living room. "Bill found you," she reveals in a quiet voice. "Because you drank his blood, he could tell you were hurt and where to find you."

I stare for a few seconds at the steam rising out of my ceramic cup. "Sookie," I start in a serious voice. "I'm going to tell you something that you have to _promise _not to tell anyone. Ever," I emphasize. "Not even Bill."

Her eyes are full of concern and she stares at me questioningly.

"Sookie," I say again. "Do you swear?"

She holds up her right hand like she's taking a serious oath. "On my Gran's grave," she says solemnly.

I look away from her face and back down to my cup of tea. "Something strange has happened to both Faith and I since coming to Bon Temps." I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. "And not what you're probably thinking."

She gives me a small smile. "I wasn't thinkin' about sex."

I laugh quietly. "Faith and I didn't have any special powers when we first got to town. But now, somehow we do again."

Sookie stares at me, not realizing what I'm trying to tell her.

"Sookie…the girls I'm in charge of…the…the Slayers," I seem to stumble over my words. "We gave up all of our strength a few months ago. I was just as weak as the next girl when I came into your town. But after I drank Bill's blood, I got my Slaying powers back. And now, I don't know how, Faith has her powers back too."

The waitress doesn't seem to fully grasp the importance of what I'm telling her. She looks wistful and deep in thought, however. "Maybe it's like in that one book series with the Werewolves who only get their powers when a large clan of vamps show up in their town," she suggests. "Maybe you got your strength back cause you _needed_ it to fight whatever's coming."

I can't help but snort. "Vampires who glisten like diamonds in the sun? Give me a break."

"Tell me about it," Sookie nods in agreement. "Once, Bill went outside to save me during the daylight and lit up like a marshmallow at a bonfire."

I make an exasperated noise. "So what am I missing? What's the connection between Faith and I getting our powers back? Could she have drunk vampire blood, too?" I suggest.

Sookie chews on her bottom lip. "Maybe. But I've never seen vamp's blood do that to people's eyes before. What was wrong with everyone at that party?"

I shake my head. I don't know. "It has to be that MaryAnn woman," I say with emotion. "She's got them under some spell or something," I lament. "God, I wish Willow was here right now."

"Who's that?" Sookie questions.

"One of my best friends. She's really good at researching ancient demons and mythology and things just like this. Plus, she's like this super-powerful Wicca Goddess. Well," I twist my mouth into a frown, "she _used _to be. But then we all gave up our Powers."

"I wanted to ask about that," Sookie interjects. "How did you just _give _them up?"

I frown. "It's a long story."

The blonde Southerner gives me a slight nudge and a teasing smile. "You're full of long stories."

"I know. I'm sorry," I sigh miserably. "And if I thought it would help us out here, I'd go into it. But the simple fact is that Faith and I weren't strong before and now we both are again."

"But…" Sookie hesitates, "_why _would you give up your Powers?"

"I honestly don't know," I shake my head. "It seemed like a good idea at the time though."

My waitress friend hangs her head. "I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to give up…what I can do."

I nod, remembering a time that now seems lifetimes ago, when I could hear everyone's thoughts and how it almost drove me insane. "I know how hard that can be," I sympathize.

There's a thoughtful silence between the two of us for a moment, although I know that Sookie's never been lucky enough to _truly _be alone with her thoughts. Everyone else's are always trying to butt in.

I look up when I hear a rustling noise coming from the direction of Sookie's kitchen. It's Bill. When we got back to the relative safety of Sookie's home, he'd offered his blood to help my face heal, but I turned it down.

He strolls into the living room and hands me an ice pack for the swelling on my face, and I give him a grateful smile. Well, as big a smile as I can without it hurting too much.

"So what do you suggest we do next?" he asks in a grave tone.

"We've got to get her back." My voice sounds stronger and surer than I feel. Maybe Faith isn't really possessed. Maybe she chose MaryAnn over me, just like she once chose the Mayor over me.

"We'll get her back," Sookie reassures me, placing a comforting hand on my arm. "We just have to do it in a way that'll keep _you _safe. MaryAnn wants your heart," she reminds me. "And if she's got an Army of the Livin' doin' her bidding, _plus _a big bad Slayer…we're gonna need a little more fire power than the three of us and Jason."

I hang my head and sigh. I didn't want it to come to this; I just wanted to help out these people and move on to New Orleans. I don't know how everything got so complicated. I've got my own Big Bad to deal with.

But now that we're in it so deep – now that Faith is involved – I can't just pack up and move on.

I think it's time I give Willow and the gang a call. With all this talk about gods and ritual sacrifices, it's starting to feel like I've seen this all before. And we all know how that ended last time.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Buffy POV**

I hold my breath as the telephone rings and fiddle anxiously with the international calling card in my hand. The glass of the phone booth is slightly dingy, but I can still see Sookie sitting in the passenger seat of Bill's car. She gives me a reassuring smile and I force a tight grin in return. With each telephone ring, I feel my stomach tighten. I really hope someone's there to answer. I really hope nothing bad has happened to them, too. I've done a horrible time of protecting the people around me lately.

When I hear the telltale click, my breath hitches in my throat.

"Hello?" The voice on the other line sounds slightly muffled.

"Hello?" I respond; I don't immediately recognize the voice.

"What do ya want?" comes the annoyed response.

"Kennedy?" I guess, trying to put a face with the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah?" This time her voice is clearer, and I can tell it's Willow bratty half.

I can hear strange noises in the background, but it could just be the muffled international connection. "What's going on?" I ask, immediately suspicious. My eyebrows rise. And why does Kennedy have this phone? I told Willow not to let the prepaid phone out of her sight. Without magic to rely on, it's Faith and my only connection to everyone back in Tibet.

"You're interrupting pizza time," Kennedy deadpans, not masking the annoyance in her tone.

"Pizza time?" I repeat in shock. How do we have the budget for a pizza party? Did someone steal the Taj Mahal? I don't even know if that's near Oz's place, or if it's even steal-able, but I'm pretty sure we all vowed not to steal things anymore to fund our slaying. Plus, do they even _have_ pizzain that part of the world?

"Yeah," she mumbles, after taking yet another obvious bite of food.

"Could you stop that?" I grumble. "I don't have a lot of time left on this calling card."

"Fine," Kennedy huffs, her voice pizza-free this time. "What do you want?"

"This is Buffy."

"Well, duh." She sounds bored.

"I need to talk to Willow," I say, quickly growing impatient with the trajectory of this conversation.

"She's busy," the girl tells me flatly.

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Well, can't you get her _unbusy_?" God this brat is so…so…_bratty_. "This is pretty important, Ken."

"Fine," the brunette slayer grumbles. "Let me see if I can track her down."

I can hear her setting the phone down. The mouthpiece gets rammed into something and I pull my own ear away from the telephone when it makes a loud, obnoxious noise.

My rehearsed speech runs through my mind as I wait for Kennedy to find my best friend. I don't know how much time I have left on this calling card, so I need to be thorough, but brief. And I need to make sure I don't reveal that I'm in Bon Temps or where Willow and the gang are either. Twilight and his goons probably still have no idea where Faith and I are headed, but I don't want to take any chances. I've been reckless enough this past week.

After what feels like an eternity, I can hear the phone being picked up again. I hope to God it's not Kennedy with some excuse about not being able to find Willow.

"Buffy?"

I immediately recognize the voice of my best friend. "Will!" I exclaim. "Where were you? Why didn't you have the phone with you?"

"I, uh, was helping give Oz's baby a bath," she sheepishly admits.

"Oh no, Wills," I playfully groan. "Don't tell me your biological clock is ticking?"

She laughs. "It's more like a Doomsday Countdown. But I'm pretty sure Kennedy's not ready for that."

"Yeah," I easily agree. "Especially since she just learned how to use the Big Girl Potty not too long ago."

"Buffy!" my long-time friend gasps in mock horror. "Why are you always so mean to her?"

"Sorry, Will," I chuckle. "She just makes it too easy."

To be honest, I've never felt entirely comfortable around Willow's girlfriend. It has nothing to do with the Gay Thing though. I adored Tara, and, well, _hello_, it's not like I've been on the straight-and-narrow myself lately.

But ever since Willow revealed to me that she had partially blamed me for Tara's death and had wanted to keep Kennedy away from me – away from danger – I've been on edge around the former boarding school brat.

She's right though. Willow, that is. People around me have a bad habit of dying or getting hurt. Or going evil.

"So…pizza party?" I have to ask.

"Well…" she hesitates, "the girls have to eat, don't they?"

"And where did all this pizza come from?" I dare ask. For some reason I've got visions of Andrew going on a dramatic excursion to Italy, foraging for food.

Willow snorts quietly. "It's not like no one over here knows how to cook, Buffy."

Oh…right…I guess not all pizza is delivered.

"So, what's up?" my redheaded friend asks, snapping me back to the real reason I called her. "I thought we agreed just to use this phone for emergencies?" she asks. "Is everything okay?"

It had been so easy to fall into a light banter and idle chat with Willow, I'd nearly forgotten the reason for the phone call. I flash a brief, guilty look toward Sookie and Bill who still wait in the dark sedan. I hope she hasn't been reading my thoughts. She might not believe I really want to save Faith. But I do. Right?

And she does need saving. Right?

She didn't choose to betray me and her calling again. Right?

I sigh deeply and idly rub my left temple. "Wills, I need you and the gang to do some research for me. What do you know about a god named Dionysis?"

"If memory serves me right," she immediately responds, "he was the Greek god of wine and parties….Why?"

A brief memory of MaryAnn's orgiastic pool parties floods my mind. Yeah, that sounds about right.

"I'm pretty sure we're dealing with a demon or something supernatural that's connected to him," I tell her. "This woman, she…she eats hearts and makes human sacrifices to him."

"And you're sure this person's a demon or something and not just a chick doing sacrifices to make sure she's got the raging-est kegger in the neighborhood?" Willow astutely asks.

"No, I'm definitely sure she's not some manic sorority girl," I say with conviction. "She makes my Spidey-senses all tingly and she's somehow possessed like half the townspeople here. They have these creepy blacked-out eyes, and they really, really like sex."

"But are you guys okay? You've got your powers back, but how is Faith?" Willow worries aloud.

I chew on my bottom lip. "This woman, Willow," I begin, "she…she wants to feed my heart to her god. And…she's got Faith."

I hear Willow take a deep breath.

I swallow hard and reflexively tighten my grip on the phone. "Willow, it's bad. Really bad. I need you to get as much information on this woman and this Dionysis guy as fast as you can."

"I'll get everyone researching this. Call me in a couple of hours and I'll let you know what we've found. Don't worry, Buffy," my friend tries to reassure me. "We'll figure this out. And we'll save Faith."

I thank Willow, say my goodbyes, and hang up the phone. As I push out the telephone booth and walk briskly toward Bill's parked car, I can only hope that she's right. And I really hope that Faith _does _need my help.

When we drive back to Sookie's house, I'm instantly alarmed by the sight of the front door ajar. The three of us climb out of Bill's car and cautiously stalk up the stairs to the front porch.

"Stay here," I tell Bill and Sookie in a low tone. "I'll make sure no one's in there that shouldn't be."

I can see Bill bristle at my orders. "With all due respect, Buffy," he drawls, "I cannot allow you to go in there alone."

I release a disgruntled sigh. I know enough about Bill to realize I could argue with him about this until I'm blue in the face. Vampire or not, Bill's a Southern gentlemen first, and there's no way he's letting me go in there by myself.

"Fine." I point at Sookie. "But _you _need to stay out here."

"Hey!" the blonde protests. I can nearly see her feathers ruffling where she stands.

"Sookie." Bill's voice is stern and his eyes flash dark against his pale features. "Do not test me. I have a hard enough time keeping you safe without you jumping head-first into danger."

I'm just now noticing how very, very _white _the vampire is. Bill is in serious need of a bronzer. It can't just be a vampire thing because Angel was never_ that_ pale; Spike was, but it kind of went with the whole bleach blond thing he had going on.

Kind of like a marble statue you'd see in a museum. Chiseled and hard all over. And when I say _all over…_

"For Pete's sake, Buffy. Could you keep it in your pants long enough to find out if anyone's in there?" Sookie protests.

I blush immediately. God, I hate that party trick of hers.

Sookie starts toward the slightly opened door. "It's probably just Jason and he didn't bother to close the door behind him," she blusters.

Faster than I can react, Bill is at her side, one hand clenched around her upper arm. "Well, if it's just Jason in there," he calmly reasons, "you won't mind if Buffy and I go say hi to him first."

The waitress looks cross, but she knows this is a battle she's not going to win. If it had just been her and Bill, she might have been able to convince her boyfriend to let her go inside. But with me here too, she can't pout and get her way this time – even if it _is _an adorable pout. I cock my head and admire the fullness of Sookie's lower lip. I normally go for the dark and dangerous types, but this Southerner is certainly not without her charms.

…

Oh God. What's _wrong _with me?

I flick my eyes in Sookie's direction, fearful that she may have just read my mind again. Luckily, however, she's still steaming in Bill's direction.

I point at the porch swing. "Sookie," I say in commanding voice. "Sit. We'll be right back if the coast is clear."

She narrows her eyes slightly and huffs, but obeys me.

I cautiously push open the front door with the toe of my shoe. I'm amazed that the aged and worn wooden door doesn't shriek on its hinges, announcing our arrival. The living room is empty, so I silently sweep toward the back of the house. Everything is completely silent. All I can hear is the sound of a grandfather clock ticking somewhere in the vicinity.

But even though the house is silent, I'm honestly not that surprised when I find MaryAnn and Faith seated at the kitchen table.

I step into the room, holding my hands in a defensive position. "This can't end well," I mutter to myself.

Faith's eyes are still as dark and cold as ever, like hunks of black charcoal lodged inside her eye sockets. When she notices my presence, she stands up from the table and grins wildly at me. "Welcome home, lover," she growls.

I can feel Bill's presence behind me. I hope he has enough sense not to attack. In this confined space, we might have an advantage. Even if my sister-Slayer has her powers back, she's no match for both myself and a super strong vampire. But then again, I have no idea what kind of powers MaryAnn has.

A shrill shrieking noise makes me jump slightly. I hear a sound near my side like a knife slicing through the air. Bill's fangs have snapped out, but his grave face remains smooth.

And Faith remains standing rigidly like a guard dog protecting its owner.

MaryAnn looks unalarmed by the face-off and stands from her seat at Sookie's kitchen table. She walks over to the gas range and pulls the kettle from the flame. The shrieking of the hot water is instantly silenced. The crazed woman slides around the room without a care, finding a ceramic mug and a plastic bottle of honey. She seems to instinctively know where the Southern girl keeps things.

"I hope you don't mind," MaryAnn purrs in that mirthful tone I've come to despise. "It's a little damp out, so I thought some hot tea would be nice." Why do I feel like her voice is always mocking me?

She sits down with the mug between cupped hands and blows gently across the top of the steaming tea. "Where's the other girl?" she asks, looking back and forth between Bill and myself. The woman takes a tentative sip. "Ohhh," she coos. "That's good." She smiles and sets the cup down on the round kitchen table.

"You will not lay a hand on her," Bill growls, his muscles tensing and flexing with restrained anger.

MaryAnn waves a hand and laughs. "She's of no concern to me, Vampire," she chuckles. She looks pointedly at me. "I've got more powerful fish to fry."

"What do you think you're doing here?" I demand sternly.

Although I hope it doesn't show, her presence here has rattled me. This isn't how the Bad Guys behave. They don't infiltrate your headquarters and then makes themselves herbal tea. I don't know what to make of this woman. She's not playing by the rules.

I glance briefly at Faith. She's like a statue. No biting, sexual comments. Not even a sarcastic death threat. This woman _must _have her under her control. I've never seen her like this before, even when she was working for the Mayor.

"I told you before, Slayer. I want your heart." MaryAnn looks at me and bats her long eyelashes.

I don't know what to say to this woman. For the first time in a long time, I have no comeback. What do you say to someone who wants to eat your heart?

_No thanks, I kind of need it? _

_Go ahead. I hope it gives you heartburn?_

Ugh. I used to be so good at this.

"You don't honestly think you can just walk in and out of this house without consequences, do you?" Bill grunts when it's clear I can't seem to find my voice. Even if this woman didn't want to kill me, I can tell he would still be upset by this woman's lack of decorum.

"I have no quarrel with you or your woman, Vampire," MaryAnn starts. "Why get yourself involved in these matters?"

"Innocent people in my town have died because of you, woman," Bill growls. "And I make that my concern."

MayAnn laughs pleasantly. It's like the tinkling of bells. "As if you've never killed an innocent," she scoffs.

MaryAnn stands up suddenly. She clucks her tongue against the roof of her tongue and chuckles quietly. "I have to admit…I do admire your spunk. But you cannot win this time. I will come and go as I please," she notes. "And I will _kill_ whomever I please."

Her dark eyes narrow slightly and her features become hard. "I will have my sacrifice to my Lord at the next full moon. And if I can't have _your _heart, Slayer…." MaryAnn's words trail off and she gives a lingering look in the direction of Faith. "…It would seem as if I already have another."

My body tenses when MaryAnn idly walks toward the sink and pulls a large kitchen knife from a stack of dirty dishes. With the weapon held loosely in her hand, the dark-haired woman glides next to Faith. "You need to see this, Hero," she murmurs.

I can only watch as she brings the knife up to Faith's neck and lightly presses the blade against her flawless skin. To my amazement, Faith doesn't flinch. If anything, her smile only becomes wider. She's completely at this crazy woman's mercy.

MaryAnn pulls the blade away from Faith's neck and trails the sharp point just beneath her exposed collarbone. I faint line of crimson blood appears in its wake. And again, my sister-slayer shows no reaction.

I can feel Bill twitch beside me. Even though Sookie's promised me that the only human blood he drinks anymore is hers when they're, uh…you know….I'm sure all that Japanese synthetic blood can't compare to the real thing. Especially when it's Slayer blood.

"As you can see," MaryAnn states as though giving a presentation. "_She is mine. _There is no fear when one serves my Lord."

Her fingers go up to the thin line of blood on Faith's breastplate. She trails her fingertips along the red liquid, swiping at it as though she were scooping icing from the top of a cake. I can see the blood on her fingers and she brings them up to her mouth. She sucks her digits into her mouth and quietly moans as though Faith's blood is an aphrodisiac.

Taking her fingers from her mouth, MaryAnn wets her lips. "I have to admit though...it would be a shame to sacrifice her. I'm starting to become quite attached."

I watch as the dark-haired demon rakes her fingernails down Faith's neck. My sister-Slayer's eyes flutter close, and I swear I hear a quiet purr from her. Turning her back to me, MaryAnn embraces Faith, their bodies melting together. She presses her red lips against Faith's mouth and my stomach lurches as they share a far-too-erotic kiss. Even from where I stand, I can see their pink tongues caressing each other.

I clench my fists into balls, my nails biting into my palms. This woman must pay. Bill gently, but assertively grabs my elbow, grounding me. I'm sure he doesn't need to use our emotional connection to tell I'm ready to tear into this bitch.

After what feels like an eternity, MaryAnn finally pulls away from Faith's mouth. "You need to ask yourself, Slayer," she murmurs, still gazing at Faith and not me. "Whose life is more valuable? Yours? Or hers?"

I speak for the first time since entering the room: "I won't let you get away with this." Nice, Buffy. Very original.

Her head snaps to gaze at me. "You have until the full moon. The decision is yours. But know this. One of you _will _die."

I feel sick to my stomach. I need to break something. I want to scream at the top of my lungs.

"How could you just let them leave like that?" I yell at Bill.

After our confrontation, both MaryAnn and Faith had waltzed out of Sookie's home without so much as a scratch or good-old-fashioned hair pulling. Bill had made sure of that. Bill now sits at the kitchen table where MaryAnn had been seated just a few minutes before. The Southern vampire fiddles with the paper label on his bottle of synthetic True Blood.

"This was neither the time or the place for a physical confrontation," he states gravely. "You know that better than I, Buffy."

Sookie stands at the kitchen sink, scrubbing furiously at the dirty dishes. "I can't believe that woman just walked in and out of my Gran's home like she owned the place!" she bitterly complains. "Hasn't this house had enough murderers in it for one year?"

She flicks her eyes apologetically toward her boyfriend, as if suddenly remembering. He tips his glass bottle in her direction to show her there's no hard feelings.

I sit down at the kitchen table across from Bill and hold my tired head in my hands.

"What time is it?" I ask wearily, staring at the linoleum floor.

"It is nearly dawn," Bill says with a small sigh, "which means I must retire soon until the sun sets."

"And what do we do in the meantime?" Sookie demands, shaking the wet suds from her hands. "Just hang out here until she breaks into my house again?"

Bill shakes his head. "I do not believe she will attack again. She's let us know what it is that she wants. She's played her pieces." He pauses and looks pointedly at me. "And to use chess vernacular, she has your Queen. The next move is ours."

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**Buffy's POV**

After fidgeting and pacing for the better part of the day, I finally call the Scoobies to find out what they were able to dig up on this woman and her god. Sookie tried to get me to take a nap while we waited for the daylight hours to wan – my sleep schedule has been basically non-existence these past few days. But we all know that wasn't going to happen. When a crisis happens, I can't exactly just turn off and go to sleep.

So far what Willow has to share isn't too forthcoming and I'm feeling more than a little frustrated. We have a deadline – the next full moon – which, according to the church calendar in Sookie's kitchen, is in two nights. If we don't rescue Faith or I don't surrender myself by then, MaryAnn will carve her heart out as a sacrifice.

"Dionysus," I hear my best friend announce over our emergency line, "was the Greek god of wine. But that's just the Disney version of it," she notes. "He also seems to inspire ritual madness from his followers. He's also known as_Eleutherios_or the Liberator."

"So now he's George W. Bush?" I deadpan.

"No, no. Not _that _kind of liberation," the redhead chuckles. "It's more like…" Willow pauses in thought, "liberating one from their normal self. Making you do things you normally wouldn't do. Kind of like…the extreme effects of too much alcohol."

"So what does this MaryAnn woman have to do with this Dion-nice-us guy? Is she a god too?" I worry aloud.

"No, I don't think so," Willow says. "More than likely she's just part of his retinue – probably a maenad or a satyr. Actually," she corrects herself, "I'm guessing she's a maenad because satyr's are typically male."

There's a pause in our conversation.

"And now's the part where you ask what a maenad is," Willow chuckles.

"No," I stubbornly disagree. "Now's the part where I ask you how I kill her."

I hear a disgruntled sigh from my friend. "I'm not exactly sure," she regretfully admits. "All I really know is that she gets her power through the god. Buffy," she warns me, "these maenads can't be reckoned with. It says here that when they channel Dionysus, they lose all self-control. We're talking Adult content here. Sex and cannibalism. "

"Hence all the spontaneous orgies and the part about her wanting to eat my heart," I note.

I can almost hear the frown across the telephone lines. "I guess so."

I know it's killing her to be powerless and halfway across the globe. Before we voluntarily gave up our magicks to get Twilight off our back, she could have teleported herself and a Slayer Army to Bon Temps, Louisiana faster than I can say 'I-need-a-Wicca.' But having Power doesn't mean anything. I'm back to full Slayer-mode and even _I'm _helpless at this point.

"So that's all you guys were able to find?" I ask, my heart sinking into my stomach.

"I'm sorry, Buff," Willow sighs. "We'll keep looking, but for now…that's it. Our demonology resources are really thin here."

I can't help this feeling of dread and despair that's lodged inside my gut. I've faced worse demons, worse Evils before, but it's never felt like I've had so much to lose before.

"Thanks for trying, Wills," I say in the bravest tone I can currently muster. "Let me know if you guys come across anything else you think might be useful."

"Be careful, Buffy," my best friend cautions me.

I hang up, without saying goodbye.

"So?" Sookie looks at me expectantly, but all I can do is sadly shake my head in response. We're no closer to where we were before.

I hang my head and drag myself to the kitchen table, sitting down with the Southern waitress. I can hear birds chirping happily outside the open windows. A warm breeze flutters through the old-fashioned kitchen, but does nothing to warm my bones or my spirit.

"How do you normally figure out how to kill a demon you've never heard of before?" the blonde woman asks me.

I stare blankly at the pattern on the tablecloth – small blue flowers with two pointed leaves on each stem. "Books mostly," I sigh.

"We've got a public library," Sookie offers in a helpful tone. "I've only ever checked out the romance novels, so I don't know if they'd have what you're looking for."

I close my eyes. "No offense, Sook, but I doubt the Bon Temps Public Library has what we're looking for."

Not deterred by my comment about her small town's resources, the pretty blonde continues to look for other options. "What else?" Sookie prods. "If you can't find things in your books, what else do you usually do?"

"Beat up other demons and get information from them?" I say with a weak smile.

Sookie looks deep in thought. "Well, I don't know about demons," she considers aloud, "but we certainly do have a lot of super-naturals in the area."

I give a small shrug. "I guess it can't hurt, right? Besides, I think I'll go crazy just sitting around here until Bill wakes up or we hear more from Willow."

The waitress gives me a wide smile. "Sounds like a plan!" she chirps. "Lemme just grab a shower and we can get started." Sookie stands from the kitchen table and exits towards the second floor staircase.

I pour myself another cup of coffee while I wait for Sookie to freshen up. Running around Bon Temps looking for super-natural creatures who know anything about maenads might turn out to be a waste of time, but it's better than waiting uselessly in Sookie's grandmother's house.

Besides, I'm feeling a curious urge to hit something.

The gravel road crunches beneath the tires of Sookie's tiny yellow car as she carefully maneuvers us around the unpaved residential roads in her town. Small trailers and single-family homes dot the landscape. I'm surprised that unlike when I went running earlier in the week, people's yards seem to be empty and we're the only ones on the road this morning.

"Where is everyone?" I wonder out loud as I stare out the passenger side window.

Sookie shrugs as she turns another corner. "Got me," she admits. "Normally town is crawling with folks around this hour. Not many people in Bon Temps have traditional 9-5 job unless they work at the bank or the post office."

I give the Southern blonde a curious look when she parks the car in the police station lot. "What are we doing here?" I ask. In my professional experience, the police are the last people you go to when things get hairy. If someone steals my purse, then yeah. But if someone's trying to steal my heart…no.

"There's someone here who might have some answers for us," she replies in a small voice.

My brain is working overtime as we make our way up the walkway toward the one-story police post. Are the cops here super-natural?

A surly-looking man in a rumpled dress shirt sits at the front desk when we walk in, sunlight streaming in behind us. One of his arms is bandaged in a crude-looking cast and he looks like he hasn't slept or showered in a few days.

"Andy," Sookie clips in a serious tone. "We're here to see Sam."

The man looks up from his newspaper and curls his lip at the waitress. "Show some respect. It's _Detective Bellefleur _to you_."_

Sookie stamps her sandaled foot, growing impatient with this disheveled man. "Just show us to Sam, will ya, Andy?"

The man makes a few disgruntled noises, but slowly stands up from the desk. "Fine," he grunts. He rubs a hand along his balding head. "Follow me."

Knowing that I don't actually have to use words with Sookie since she can hear my thoughts, I project to her my curiosity: "Don't tell me that _Sam _is a demon?" I silently ask her.

She gives me a quick sideways glance as if to say she'll explain it all soon.

We follow Andy Bellefleur down the well-lit corridor of the county jail and I'm surprised to see how many people are actually locked up. It's a bit alarming and intimidating to walk freely down this hallway. Sookie and I face a bevy of cheers and jeers from both men and women as we walk past them to reach the cell at the end of the hallway.

Sam hops up from the bottom bunk in his cell when he recognizes the two of us on the other side of the metal bars. Unlike the other jailed townsfolk, he's alone in a private cell, probably because his alleged crime is much more serious. The bar owner runs his hand through his wild hair nervously as if trying to tame his chaotic, shaggy tresses.

He doesn't look too different from the last time I saw him. Apparently the Bon Temps police don't make their prisoners wear the traditional orange jump suits. He's dressed in a tight flannel button up shirt, his jeans look painted on, adorned with a giant belt-buckle. His hair's a little flat on one side as though he'd been sleeping and his normally scruffy chin looks a little scruffier.

"I'll leave y'all alone for a few minutes," Detective Bellefleur drawls, "but don't try no funny business." The man turns briskly on his heels and stomps back down the hallway in the direction from which we've just come.

"Hey Sookie," Sam greets in a low voice when Andy's left. He nods at me. "Buffy."

Sookie steps close to the jail cell. "Sam," she starts, "what do you know about a maenad named MaryAnn?" This girl doesn't pull any punches.

I expect that Sam won't know what the telepathic waitress is talking about, but to my surprise he drops his eyes to the floor – a telltale signal that he knows more than he's been letting on.

He runs his hand through his hair again and finally looks up with a small smile on his lips. "Guess I should've known I couldn't keep anything from you, huh, Sook?"

"Why is she here, Sam?" Sookie asks impatiently. "And what do you have to do with it?"

"It's a long story," he sighs. "Lemme start at the beginning." Sam sits back down on the bottom bunk and wipes his palms on the tops of his denim-clad thighs. "I was adopted," he starts. "And when I hit puberty, I started to change." He flicks his eyes at me.

"I haven't told Buffy anything," Sookie says.

Sam's thin lips press together, making a straight line. "You're not human, are you?" he asks me. His tone of voice doesn't make it an accusation; it's just a casual remark.

But although Sam didn't mean to be malicious, I still bristle at the question. "Of course I'm human," I insist indignantly.

"I mean to say, there's something special about you," Sam elaborates. "I can feel it…because I'm different, too. Our kind can always feel each other out, ya know."

I shake my head. "I'm just strong for my size, that's all."

Sam looks unconvinced, but doesn't press me further. "I'm a shape shifter," he reveals without further fanfare. "I can change into just about any animal I want, but it takes a lot of practice. When I first started to get my abilities my adoptive parents freaked out and left me. I was on my own for a while – scroungin' and stealin' just to survive. I made the mistake of stealing about $100,000 from MaryAnn."

"You stole a hundred grand from a maenad?" I ask incredulously.

Sam's face colors red. "I-I didn't _know _she was a maenad at the time," he sputters. "Just thought she was some super rich chick who wouldn't miss a pile of cash."

"And you think she's here in Bon Temps because of you?" Sookie asks pointedly.

Sam nods. "Otherwise it's just a really nasty coincidence," he says. "But once she figured out I lived here….it's no coincidence that those two girls were found dead around my bar," the reedy-thin man notes. "MaryAnn's framing me."

We leave soon after Sam tells us everything he knows – which isn't much – accept to say that MaryAnn can't control shape-shifters the way she can regular humans. This information causes me to go deep in thought. If MaryAnn can't influence super-naturals, what kind of control would she have over a Slayer? I once again begin to question whether Faith has joined the maenad's ranks because she's under her control or not.

"Why didn't you tell Sam that you're a Slayer?" Sookie asks me in a quiet voice as we leave the police station and go back to her parked car.

I frown. "I don't like to go blabbin' about being a Slayer to just everyone I come across, Sookie," I offer as an explanation.

"I know, but he was tellin' ya all about him," the waitress points out.

I shake my head. "Things are different now, Sook," I sigh. "Slayers…we…we're not exactly seen as benevolent superheroes anymore."

Sookie doesn't respond; she merely looks thoughtful.

As we make our way back to Sookie's grandmother's house, we drive past a few shirtless men in dirty jeans and boots, toiling under the mid-afternoon sun. Sookie rolls the car to a stop and whistles out the window, surprising me.

One of the bronzed men looks up from his hard labor and flashes a perfect smile in our direction. He drops his shovel and trots over to us, his pectoral muscles flexing with every step. I hastily look away, focusing on the floor mat, lest Sookie catch me having less than PG-rated thoughts again.

"I thought you didn't have to do any more hard labor since you got promoted to crew supervisor?" I hear Sookie's voice ask in a lightly mocking voice. I can make out the slight scent of sweat lingering in the air.

The man makes a snorting noise. "Yeah, well…half the crew didn't show up this morning, so I gotta pitch in," he lightly drawls in complaint.

"Well if you get a break," the waitress notes, "feel free to stop by the house and get a sandwich or some lemonade or something."

I flick my eyes to the driver side window. Who would she be offering lunch to? Uh oh. It's her brother, Jason. And he's shirtless, tan, and gleaming with sweat. I quickly avert my eyes again.

Jason breathes out heavily. "Yeah, well if I get a moment, I'll drop by the house and check up on y'all," he promises. "But we're shorthanded and I gotta get these potholes fixed before tomorrow."

Sookie says goodbye to her brother and he trots off after flashing me another brilliant smile. We sit in the idling car for a few moments. "So, uh," I start. "Know of any other super-naturals we could visit?" I ask the telepathic waitress, breaking the weird silence.

The blonde woman shakes her head, her loose curls bouncing with the movement. "I'm kinda tapped out, honestly," she regretfully admits. "I know a bunch of vampires in the area, but they're all still sleeping for a few more hours."

I nod. "Well, I guess we gave it a shot at least. Maybe Willow and the gang have found something while we were out," I add hopefully. "We should probably head back."

The blonde girl nods her head in agreement. She takes the car out of park and we lurch forward. "Oh, and Buffy?"

I look at her and raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"No offense, but stay away from my brother." She gives me a cheeky grin. "He gets in enough trouble on his own without beddin' a Slayer."

"We've got to get Faith back tonight," I announce as I stop pacing in front of the unused fireplace.

A few hours have passed since Sookie and I returned to her grandmother's home. In that time, the gang hasn't been able to find anything more to help us out, and I can't help but feel anxious and agitated. I'm sure my internal worries are starting to affect Sookie as well.

"I don't want to take the chance that MaryAnn gets tired of waiting for me and just cuts out Faith's heart instead," I add.

Sookie nods from her seat on the worn red couch. "Lemme just call Jason. Normally he's about as useless as tits on a boar hog," she notes, "but when it comes to this fightin' stuff, he's actually kinda handy with a gun."

I frown slightly and worry my lower lip with my bottom teeth. "Sookie," I start, "no offense to your brother, but I don't want anyone else getting involved. MaryAnn is a seriously dangerous woman and I couldn't live with myself if anyone else got hurt on account of us. I mean, I don't even want _you _to come along," I point out to the blonde waitress, "but I know you're not just gonna sit at home."

I flick my eyes toward Bill, hoping he'll have my back on this. As soon as the sun dipped into the horizon, he was at Sookie's front door. To my chagrin, the vampire merely shrugs. Shrugs are not helpful at all.

"So what's the plan?" he asks in his stony, emotionless tone. "How do you propose we get your friend back?"

I wring my hands in front of me and glance between my two allies. "I have an idea. But I don't think you're gonna like it…."

I crouch in the dense woods, peering between the holes in the leaves and branches. From my position, I have a clear view of the on-going orgy that seems to have continued ever since that first night Faith and I stumbled across MaryAnn and her minions. There's more people now however, with less clothes, and the definite stench of rotted meat and body odor in the air. I don't think I've ever had such an X-rated mission before. Kinda makes me miss tracking sewer-dwelling demons.

I shift slightly, my knees starting to ache from being in this stationary position for too long. I cringe when I hear the distinct sound of twigs and branches snapping beneath my feet. Sometimes I have all the stealth of a hippopotamus.

"Well lookee what we got here," a gapped-toothed man dressed in a stained wife beater and boxer shorts gloats. "A peeping Tom." His oily mullet looks like it hasn't been washed in over a month.

I stand up from my hiding spot since it makes no sense to pretend like I haven't been detected. Plus my knees were getting achy.

"That ain't no Tom," a woman in a sheer moo-moo drawls. There's curlers in her hair, and I _so _do not need to see what's beneath her nightgown. "That's a girl."

"Aww, Marlene, you know what I mean," the man counters in annoyance.

I make a movement as though to flee, but I'm surprised when a calloused hand grabs my wrist and retches my arm behind my back. "Don't be gettin' any ideas, Blondie," a man breathes in my ear. His breath smells like stale beer and a wave of nausea rushes over me.

A number of sweaty hands clamp onto my limbs and I feel overwhelmed by how quickly the maenad's minions have swarmed around me.

As they drag me closer to where I can only assume MaryAnn is located, the first thing I see is my sister-Slayer standing stiffly next to the seated woman. Her eyes are still dark and emotionless. A shirtless man I recognize as Tara's boyfriend, Eggs, feeds the maenad grapes.

MaryAnn's lips twist into a smile when she sees me. "Buffy!" she chirps as though we're long-lost friends. "I'm so happy you made it. I honestly wasn't expecting you until tomorrow night."

The dark-haired woman rubs her hands together as if brushing away non-existent crumbs and stands from her chair.

"You have no idea how long I've been looking for you, Slayer," she murmurs.

"Well that's flattering," I quip through my sneer. "Hope I didn't keep you from more important things."

MaryAnn glares at me. "You killed the Father," she states bitterly. "And now you're going to help me bring him back."

I can't help but laugh even though I have no idea what she's talking about. "I killed your Father?" I snort, struggling against the hold her zombies have on my limbs. "Well, if I did I'm sure he had it coming."

A strange look passes the maenad's face. "Kakistos will live again," she mutters stonily. "And I will be his vessel."

MaryAnn's words cause me to pause in my struggle and I can only stare at the woman dumbly. _Kakistos? _What the hell is going on? I hope I didn't just hear her right.

"For Kakistos, we live…for Kakistos, you die."

Fuck. Fuckity Fuck.

I don't have time to dwell on the implications of MaryAnn being connected to Kakistos. I can think about that tomorrow. Regardless of this curveball, I've still got my plan to go through with.

I take a deep breath and hope my voice can carry over the din of the white-trash orgy: "Now, Sookie!" I yell.

If the Greek god Dionysus was able to inspire cannibalism and mass drunkenness, then I guess I lucked out when I'd made the acquaintance of a waitress at a bar and grill. With Sam wrongly in jail for the murder of those two women, Sookie had been given keys to the bar along with access to the meat freezer and back storeroom.

The waitress pops out of a bush at the perimeter of the party with her vampire boyfriend. She makes an odd noise in the back of her throat like a farmer calling pigs to get their breakfast. The telepathic girl starts chucking giant pieces of raw meat while Bill throws bottles and cans of local lager. It's like a shower of free BBQ and booze.

The hordes of zombie townsfolk, including the handful holding me captive, run toward the beer and meat like a sorority girl in a glitter store. MaryAnn looks momentarily stunned that her army of sexed-up rednecks has wandered off without her approval. But she's only distracted for a few seconds before her icy gaze falls back on me.

"Faith," she states in an unworried tone. "Teach this girl for messing with Our Father's plans."

The brunette slayer's vapid face snaps to attention at MaryAnn's command and she lumbers away from the demented maenad, stalking closer to me. She stops a few feet from me and gives me a twisted smile. "Guess we get to throw down after all, Twinkie," she says in her raspy tone.

Time for Step 2 of Operation Get Faith Back.

"Now, Jason!" I call out.

At my command, Sookie's brother pops up out of the foliage not too far from us and nestles the butt of his rifle against his right shoulder. I can see him take careful aim from his slightly elevated position on a small hill. After a few seconds, he squeezes the trigger and a "thwunk" noise pierces the night sky.

Faith's hand immediately goes up to her neck and she pulls out the small, feathered dart. "What the fuck?" she murmurs, looking at the tiny tranquilizer in her hand.

I can see her knees buckle and she wobbles slightly on her feet. After a few seconds, her dark eyes roll backwards in her head and she collapses to the ground in a heap. Not wasting any time, I immediately scoop her up, throwing her long body over my shoulder as though in a fireman's carry.

With Faith unconscious and slung over my shoulder, I begin to sprint in the direction of my friends, dodging around the hoards of zombie-fied townsfolk. No one makes any attempt to capture me, however. The beer and BBQ worked better than I ever could have hoped for.

"No!" I hear the maenad shriek in the distance.

But I don't look back. I just keep running.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

**Buffy POV**

The look Faith gives me sends a chill down my spine. She's looked at me with hatred, with anger, with lust, with every emotion you can imagine, but nothing compares to the way she's looking at me now.

Before she could regain consciousness, Sookie, Jason, Bill, and I brought her back to Jason's house. We figured it would be safer than bringing her back to Sookie's place where MaryAnn had already proven she has no qualms about breaking-and-entering.

So now we're all standing around in Jason's dining room. I tied Faith to one of the dining room chairs, and she's not very happy about it.

My sister-Slayer hisses animalistically and rocks back and forth on the four legs of her chair. I can sees her strong forearms flexing and straining to break out of her binds. I know it's useless though; it's not like I tied her up so she could just snap the ropes or wiggle free.

Jason stares at the brunette and I can tell he's second-guessing letting us hide out at his house. Faith doesn't have to say a word, but the look she's giving him right now says she wants to snap his head off his neck and use it as a soccer ball.

"I'll just, uh, see if I can wrestle us up some sandwiches or something," Jason says before disappearing into the kitchen.

"What are you thinking?" I question Sookie. She's had a strange look on her face ever since we brought Faith back to Jason's house.

"I wonder what _she's_ thinking," the telepath comments, nodding in the direction of the growling slayer.

"You can't tell?" I ask.

Sookie shakes her head. "Not from this distance at least. And it's usually easy for me. Faith's a real projector. She nearly _screams _out her thoughts."

"Really?" The idea of Faith's mind being easy to read is a little shocking. I'd always believed she buried her emotions and thoughts so deep that even the telepathic waitress couldn't reach her.

The waitress nods. "Uh huh. Usually it's just about sex and food, but her mental images come through loud and clear for me normally."

"So she's possessed then," I murmur, staring into her charcoal black eyes.

Sookie looks at me curiously. "Well _of course _she's possessed. Did you actually think she'd gone bad?"

I hang my head. "It...it wouldn't have been the first time. I guess it was stupid of me to think she hasn't changed since then though. Some habits are hard to quit."

Sookie tentatively reaches out, her fingertips just a few inches from Faith's shoulder. The brunette slayer twists her head and literally _barks _at the telepathic waitress. I hastily grab the blonde's hand away before Faith can bite it off.

"What are you doing?" I ask Sookie, releasing her hand.

"It seems we have a rabid dog in the room," Bill murmurs from his isolated position near a large grandfather clock.

Sookie's eyes are wide and she looks a little shaken. "I just thought if…sometimes if I can't get a good read on a person because they're supernatural or somethin', if I touch them, I can read their thoughts better."

"Let me try to calm her down before you try anything," I say. I crouch down so I'm at eye level with the Boston girl. "Faith," I say in a quiet, even tone. "We're not going to hurt you. We just want to help."

Her eyes seem to fix on me, but I don't feel like she's actually looking at me…it's more like she's looking _through _me. But at least she's not snapping and drooling anymore. Extra saliva doesn't look good on anyone, even someone as naturally sexy as Faith.

Sookie crouches next to me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off her body. "Remember when I touched MaryAnn when we were rescuin' you and that white light zapped between us?" she states, careful not to get too close to the possessed slayer.

I twist on the balls of my feet, still in my crouched position, to look at the Southern waitress. "What are you thinking?"

The blonde woman continues to stare at my dark colleague while she chews on her bottom lip. "Maybe I can do the same thing to Faith and zap the darkness out of her."

Bills voice sounds from behind us. "I'm going to have to disagree, Sookie. No offense to your friend, Buffy, but I'm not willing to put my girlfriend in harms way any further to save her."

Sookie stands up and gives her vampire boyfriend an icy glare. "Bill Compton," she declares, "I will _not _have you tellin' me what I can and cannot do."

I feel almost sorry for the vampire. He dips his head apologetically and sits back down.

The Southern girl drags a dining room chair next to where Faith is bound. She takes a seat and rubs her palms together. "Well," she breathes, "here we go."

Sookie lays her hands flat on the tops of Faith's arms. There's no white light, but I can tell that something is happening.

"What do you see?" I ask in a small voice.

The blonde's eyes are closed and her mouth is scrunched together in a tight line. She shakes her head. "It's dark," she mumbles. "It's like I'm in a maze or somethin' and someone forgot to pay the electric bill."

The waitress is quiet for a few minutes and no one in the room dares breath. "I'm someplace different now," she states. "Someplace cold." She wrinkles her nose. "And it smells like garbage."

"I'm small. I'm young," Sookie continues. "I-I think I'm like reliving her memories or something. God, why does it reek of alcohol and cigarettes?" she complains. Her hands shoot off of Faith and her expressive eyes are wide open.

"What's wrong?" I worry.

The Southern woman swallows and shakes her head. "I don't know. Everything was fine, but then it felt like someone was burning me. My arms felt like they were on fire and I could smell burnin' flesh."

"Sookie," Bill calls out. His girlfriend flashes him a warning look.

"I'm gonna try again," she says in a voice more shaky than before. Sookie once again places her hands on Faith's form, this time on her shoulders. She closes her eyes and sucks in a deep breath.

"I'm older now," she announces as she travels along Faith's memories. "I feel strong –

like I can take on the world. Nothing can stop me." Sookie makes a small whimpering noise. "Oh God," she gasps. "There's so much blood. I can feel it warm and sticky on my hands."

"Stop," Bill commands in an authoritative tone. "It's too much. There's too much darkness for you to handle."

Sookie snaps her eyes toward in her vampire boyfriend. "No," she insists. "I just need…I need…something."

She twists her head to look at me. What I see makes me take a step back in alarm. Her eyes are completely black. It's like looking at Willow when she went bad and was determined to destroy the world.

The waitress abruptly grabs onto my wrist before I can pull away and a blinding spark of white light shoots from my skin and jolts through Sookie and into Faith. The brunette slayer's head falls backwards and her torso twitches as though she's just been shocked with a defibrillator. My body's tingling slightly like when one of your limbs falls asleep.

Sookie gives out a tiny cry and releases her hold on both Faith and myself, falling slack in her chair. Bill rushes to her side immediately, the concern apparent in his clear, dark eyes.

A quiet moan from Faith's direction drags my attention away from the unorthodox couple. The Boston girl's head pops back up and a grimace is plastered on her face. Her eyes are closed though, so I have no idea if what Sookie just did actually worked.

"Fuck," the brunette woman groans, her head lolling slightly forward. "B," she moans, "why'd you let me drink so much last night?"

"Faith?" I take a tentative step toward the still-bound slayer.

One of her eyes slowly pulls open as if it's taking her a lot of energy. "I've got the Mother of all Hangovers, Twinkie. Shut off that light and get me an aspirin, will ya?"

When I don't respond, her eyes open fully. "What the fuck…." her voice trails off. She suddenly realizes that her arms are tied behind her, and her brow furrows. "What kind of kinks are you into, Blondie? You coulda at least waited 'til I woke up so I could have enjoyed myself, too."

I hastily reach down and fumble with the tight knots that keep Faith tied to her chair. I curse under my breath when my fingers slip over the nylon rope, unable to get my short fingernails beneath any of the tight knots. I did a better job than I thought.

"Here." Bill's cool voice startles me. I hadn't realized he was standing so close. He reaches down and yanks the rope away as if it were made of nothing more than cotton candy.

Bill shrugs nonchalantly when he reads my shocked expression. "It's a Louisiana thing," he vaguely explains.

Faith stands up abruptly from the chair and it tips over from her hastily movement. She flicks her eyes around the room trying to gain her bearings. "Where am I?" she asks in a panicked tone.

"You're at Sookie's brother's house," I state as calmly as I can.

"What happened?" she fires off. "I don't…I don't remember anything. And why the _fuck _did you have me tied up?"

"It was MaryAnn. She had you brainwashed or something," I say shaking my head. I don't exactly have a word for what had happened to the brunette. "Sookie, Bill, Jason, and I just rescued you from her."

Faith looks down at her hands. "Did I…did I hurt anyone?" she asks, looking up finally to meet my gaze.

Her chocolate eyes are a welcome sight, but it hurts to look so deeply into them. I cast my own eyes to the ground. "I…I don't honestly know."

Faith blinks hard and shakes her head. "I don't understand," she states in a voice thick with exhaustion. "How did I get my powers back? I can feel it. I feel strong again, like before."

"It must have been MaryAnn," I conclude after a moment. "When she…when she hypnotized you or whatever, it must have re-awoken your dormant powers just like drinking Bill's blood did for me."

My sister-Slayer rubs at her wrists. I must have tied her ropes tighter than I thought. "What _is _she?"

"According to Willow and the gang," I say, "she's a maenad."

Faith's beautiful face blanches. "A what?"

"It's a long story," I say, shaking my head, "but the Cliff Notes version is she's a crazy woman who worships Dionysus, the ancient Greek god of booze and sex."

Faith snorts. "Sounds like my kind of god." She makes a face immediately after the words have left her mouth. "Sorry," she apologizes. "Reflex."

"What was that woman raving about anyway?" Sookie asks, breaking into our conversation. I'd nearly forgotten about the girl who saved Faith's mind. "Something about being a vessel for someone?"

Faith's the first one to wrap her tongue around the name. "Kakistos," she growls. "The Worst of the Worst."

Sookie looks anxiously back and forth between Faith and myself. I don't know what she's mentally reading off of Faith and I feel a sudden pang of jealousy. Sookie knows what Faith is thinking. I _never _know. She's just as much of a mystery to me as when I first met her…maybe even more so lately.

"MaryAnn," Faith sighs. "You called her a maenad? I-I know what they are. I've…"

My sister-Slayer runs her fingers through her long hair and sits down on a worn couch in Jason's living room. She rests her head in her hands as though it's suddenly gotten very heavy. After a few tense moments, she looks up.

"There's stuff that happened to me…" she says, staring off into the distance, "back in Boston….before Sunnydale….that I haven't ever told you about."

I take a seat beside her and give her what I hope is an encouraging look.

"My tattoo, B," Faith starts darkly. "I…I didn't get it at some tattoo parlor in Boston…it wasn't just some rebellious teenage whim."

I have no words, but I don't think Faith needs me interrupting.

"You know that Kakistos killed my Watcher," she says thickly.

I nod. That had always been part of Faith's burden – that she hadn't been able to save her first Watcher – that she'd watched this woman who deeply cared about her get tortured and murdered in front of her. And despite all her Slayer strength, Faith had been entirely helpless.

"Kakistos used her to get to me," she continues. "Not just because I was a Slayer, but because I was somehow connected to another Slayer – someone who lived in ancient Greece. And not in just the normal way how all of us Slayers are connected." She pauses and looks at me meaningfully. "You have dreams…do you ever dream about Alex?"

The name takes me by surprise.

I look at Faith, unblinking. "How do you know about Alex?" I ask her in a low voice.

Faith swallows hard. "Because I was never able to save her either."

Images of long-ago, but not forgotten Slayer dreams flood my mind. The blood. The hanging bodies. The chaos. Never being able to save the little girl, Alex. The dreams had haunted me for I don't know how long, and then suddenly they stopped. Right around….right around the time Faith showed up in Sunnydale.

"My Watcher, Diana, told me all about maenads," my sister-Slayer continues in an even voice. "They worshiped Kakistos…they were his slaves." She pulls up the sleeve of her t-shirt to reveal the familiar armband tattoo. "And all of his followers were given this brand."

I reach out tentatively and stroke my fingers along her revealed skin. She sucks in a deep breath and I quickly pull my hand away, afraid that I'd made her uncomfortable.

"Kakistos _branded_ you?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No. Artemia did. Alex's mom," she clarifies. "She was a Slayer, too. She wanted to make sure that Kakistos found me. Or rather, that I found him. She wanted vengeance for what he'd done to Alex."

"Wait," Sookie interrupts. "Let me get this right. This guy Kakistos…and the Greek god Dionysus are the same person? The Greek god of wine and partying was a _vampire?_"

"Wine….or blood," Bill murmurs.

Fuck. Fuckity Fuck.

"So how do we kill her?" I ask, feeling confused and exasperated. I wish someone would tell me the answer so I can just end this once and for all.

"Ya give me something sharp and pointy and I jab it through her heart. I'll kill her just like I did Kakistos," Faith growls. "I don't care if she's not a vampire; she'll die just the same."

"Are we sure that's the best idea?" Sookie calls out in a worried tone. "I mean, the last time Faith was around MaryAnn, she zombified her like the rest of the town."

Faith's face falls and she has no retort. It's got to be killing her that MaryAnn was able to manipulate her like that.

"You're a Slayer again," I say, shaking my head. "She's not going to be able to control you like that again." My words are more confident that I feel, however. Who knows what could happen the next time Faith and MaryAnn meet up face-to-face?

"Sure," Faith grunts, but I can see the worry in her chocolate eyes.

"We should all get some sleep," Sookie murmurs above the quiet. "It's been a long couple of days."

Bill agrees with a curt nod and straightens his shoulders. "I'll keep watch outside until dawn. That will at least give you all a few hours to rest."

Jason finds a few extra pillows and blankets in the linen closet and pulls out the hide-a-bed in the living room for Faith and me. He looks apologetically at the two of us as he makes up the lumpy-looking bed.

"Sorry this is the best I can do," he drawls. "I gave Sookie the twin in the second bedroom; I'm not used to so much company. Normally my house guests, uh…"

"Sleep in your bed with you?" Faith finishes for him. I'm glad to see that being under the influence of a demented maenad hasn't made her lose a step. It kinda makes my heart swell with pride, actually.

The Southern boy flushes. "Yeah, something like that," he mumbles before scampering off to his own bedroom.

The cotton sheets are wrinkled and smell faintly musty. But it feels so good to just rest - to let my body and my brain relax. Even though I know we still have to do something about the maenad before we can leave Bon Temps in good conscience, I'm not worried about it. We got Faith back, and that's really what matters.

It feels like ages since we've lain next to each other like this.

I turn on my side to face my sister-Slayer. She's lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, with her head propped up on her arms. I can't tell if she's as relaxed as me, but I seriously doubt it. I know what Kakistos means to her. It would be like if someone was trying to bring The Master back...again.

"Are you okay with all of this?" I ask her. "I know that bringing up old memories of…of _him_ can't be easy."

Faith flicks her gaze in my direction. Her eyes are dark, but at least I can see the warm chocolate tone in them again. "I was just a kid then, B," she whispers, "and Kakistos did some fucked up things." She sucks in a quick breath between her teeth. "But I'm a different person now," she rasps in her graveled tone. "I've seen stuff since then, ya know?"

I grab hold of her hand underneath the thin sheets and give it a reassuring squeeze. "He's not coming back," I tell her. "I won't let that happen."

She gives me a fleeting smile and squeezes my hand back. "I know, B. I know."

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

**Buffy POV**

I look around at our ragtag group. It's not too impressive – two slayers who have only recently regained their powers – one of whom could get sucked into MaryAnn's thrall perhaps as soon as we strike. And then there's the locals: a mainstreamed vampire who had vowed to no longer kill humans for blood or sport, a newbie vampire fresh out of the grave, a telepathic waitress with no special powers besides the ability to read your dirty thoughts, her brother, and the local police detective, Andy Bellefleur.

I had been against letting the police in on the situation, but Jason vouched for the pot-bellied man. Plus, Andy seemed to know more about super-naturals than the typical law enforcer. And the more people with good aim and tranquilizer guns we have on our side, I reasoned, the better.

By the time nightfall came, Faith was more than just a little anxious to get back at MaryAnn. She had wanted to attack the maenad right away, arguing that she'd never expect a daytime ambush, but I pointed out that we'd be stronger with Bill fighting on our side. She balked at the idea of a vampire being of any help until I cautiously reminded her of Angel.

During the daylight hours, Jason and I did some reconnaissance to check on MaryAnn and her zombie minions. The kid had proved himself to be handy with a gun, so I trusted his skill-sets enough to come along with me. I knew Faith wouldn't do anything foolish, i.e. try to attack MaryAnn while we were gone, because of Sookie. With neither myself, Bill, nor Jason around, I knew Faith wouldn't leave her alone and unprotected.

I just wasn't sure I trusted Faith alone with the telepathic waitress for too long. But I suppose it was better than leaving her alone with Jason. Those two are kind of sex-on-legs. I think the world would implode if they ever hooked up. This jealousy thing is new to me. And I'm not sure I like it.

"So what's the big plan?" Sookie asks as we assemble our miniature army in Jason's kitchen the following evening.

I try to look as confident as I can with the situation before us. I've fought a Hell Goddess before and won – although it killed me. And I defeated the very thing that _made _Evil – but not without getting skewered and losing countless potential slayers along the way.

A maenad should be a walk in the park after everything I've encountered – if I had my Watcher and the most powerful Wicca this world has ever seen, and if I could trust that my sister-Slayer wouldn't go Dark again. I may have fought worse baddies before, but it's kind of like I'm starting all over.

To my chagrin, MaryAnn had relocated her party headquarters from the forest clearing to Sookie's house. We'd made the right decision staying at Jason's house the previous night, but I never thought the demon woman would set up shop in the waitress's grandmother's house. This bitch had balls, but that only made me determined to kill her even more.

"I don't really have a _plan _plan," I start, fidgeting with my ponytail. "There's no need for a sneak attack or diversions like last time. We've just got to get close enough to MaryAnn to kill her. Jason and Andy," I address the two men, "you're responsible for taking down any townsfolk with the tranquilizer guns. Bill, you and Jessica keep close," I warn the vampires. "I don't want any unnecessary bloodshed. MaryAnn's zombies are no more to blame for their actions than Faith was under her influence."

I glance fleetingly in the direction of the Boston girl. Her face looks dark, but that's not unusual. I know she's just mentally preparing for the battle. Or at least I _hope _she's thinking about that and not dwelling on the things MaryAnn made her do.

Bill's thin lips curl into a mocking smile. "Well, I suppose you were right about the beer and meat strategy last time, so we should trust you with this."

Not exactly a resounding cheer of 'Go Buffy,' but I'll take what I can get.

The new vampire, Jessica, eyeballs me with curiosity. "How come you smell different from other humans?" she bluntly asks.

"Jessica," Bill snaps, showing his displeasure at the redheaded vampire's lack of tact. "That is not conversation for polite company."

The reed-thin teen folds her arms across her chest and rolls her eyes. It's eerily reminiscent of Dawn – but then again, I suppose all teen girls act the same way….undead or alive.

"Gosh," she complains in a slightly lilting accent less pronounced than the other Southerns'. "How do you expect me to learn anything if I can't ask questions?"

Bill gnashes his teeth together in frustration. "We will discuss this _later_," he seethes. It sure doesn't take much to get Bill angry or offended. Pacifist my ass.

Now it's Faith's turn to look curious. She glances between the novice vampire and me. "Buffy smells different?" she asks. "What about me?"

Jessica gives a fleeting glance in Bill's direction as if seeking his approval to reply to the dark-haired slayer. He grumbles, but nods his head subtly.

"You smell good," she clarifies," and you're real pretty, too. But it's not like Buffy."

I can feel Jessica's startlingly blue eyes on me. "She's different," she breathes, not breaking her gaze. "It's-It's kinda distracting how…_delicious _she smells."

Faith is suddenly between me and the teenaged vampire. "Don't even think about it, Red," she growls threateningly. "If you so much as _look _at her the wrong way, you'll find out just how much harm a Slayer can do."

Instinctively, Jessica's fangs snap out and she hisses.

Bill is up from his seat on the couch in a flash and has positioned himself between the Boston girl and the newbie vampire. "Ladies," he says in a strained voice. "Let's not forget that at least for tonight, we're fighting on the same side."

Both women seem to back down a bit. Jessica's fangs retract into her mouth, and at least for now, Faith's fists are no longer raised. The Boston girl turns her back on the vampires and walks over to the dining room table where Jason has laid a number of household items that we can use as weapons. I'm still not sure how to kill a maenad, but decapitation sounds like a good idea to me.

I walk over to my sister-Slayer. "You didn't have to do that," I mumble to her.

Faith continues to pack weapons into a backpack. She shrugs nonchalantly, but doesn't look up from her task. "Don't need some green vampire tellin' me you smell good," she muttered. "Already knew that."

Even though she doesn't look up at me, and even though the words are not said with any flirtation or heat behind them, it still gives me butterflies to hear.

_Suggested Listening: Luther Allison – Evil (Is Going On)_

We make our way up the gravel driveway that leads to Sookie's house. Bill and Jason each drove their vehicles to caravan our group, Bill his black sedan and Jason his tricked-out truck. The two cars parked next to each other along the county highway form a charming paradox.

The gravel crunches beneath my boots as our group strides toward the old Stackhouse farm. Like I expected, the grounds are littered with some of MaryAnn's minions. Most of the humans are passed out or just stumbling around incoherently, however, no doubt from their 24/7 binge-orgy. I keep Jessica and Bill close by in case either of them gets a little hungry for the local cuisine. I know Bill hasn't fed from anyone besides Sookie in a while, but there's nothing that makes me trust the newly-made vampire girl.

"That maenad creature is inside the house," Bill states, his nostrils flaring. "I can smell her even from here."

Faith rolls her eyes beside me. "You vampires and your smelling things," she scoffs. "Don't you know how rude that is?"

Bill ignores the comment and instead strides confidently up the front porch of Sookie's grandma's house like he owns the place. Only he doesn't. And he bounces backwards when he tries to cross the threshold.

"What the…" he mumbles, looking at the open doorway with bewilderment. He glances at his blonde girlfriend. "Sookie, did you uninvite me?" His chiseled, pale features look wounded.

"No!" she insists. "I-I haven't done that since right before…before Gran died."

Jessica's face looks determined. "Well, only one way to find out," she mutters, boldly striding toward the open front door. Her feet stop just before she crosses the threshold.

"What the heck?" she exclaims. "It's like I _want _to go in, but my body won't let me. I can't move. Oh God," she panics aloud, "am I _paralyzed? _This is just great. I'm _dead _and paralyzed!"

Bill grabs the novice vampire by the arms and forcefully drags her away from the doorway. "You're not paralyzed, you fool," he grunts. "You just can't go inside Sookie's house."

Sookie stomps up the front steps. "What the hell is going on?" she demands. She turns and looks at her undead boyfriend. "Why can't you and Jessica go inside?"

Bill's jaw is set in a straight line. "I can only surmise it's because this house no longer belongs to you."

"Oh _hell _no," Sookie steams. "Let me get my hands on that woman!"

This is one roadblock I hadn't planned for. I thought we might have the edge with the Louisiana vampires on our side. The only thing to do is have Faith and I take her down by ourselves.

"We'll try to lead her outside if it gets out of control, okay?" I address the group. "But for now, just stay here. Stay safe."

Sookie's face is red and she looks ready to pop. "I feel about as useless as tits on a boar hog."

"You're more useful alive than dead," I venture.

The waitress's face falls slightly and she pushes out a deep breath, calming herself. "Fine," she reluctantly agrees. "I was just lookin' forward to some good 'ol-fashioned hair pullin'. Bitch can't get away with thinkin' she can take Gran's house."

I smile reassuringly at the blonde girl and lay a hand on her arm. "Don't worry, Sookie. Faith and I got this. I've faced a lot worse than this chick."

Faith snorts next to me. "Yeah," she agrees, "like me."

Not helpful.

Jessica, Bill, and Sookie remain outside with Andy and Jason. I charge them with making sure that no one gets else gets in or out of the house, so we don't get ambushed by a hoard of zombie-humans. I have to admit that I'm relieved they're not all jumping into this fight. It's taxing having to worry about others' safety in these kinds of situations. I know everyone just wants to be helpful, but this is why Slayers have always been better off alone.

Faith and I creep cautiously into the front foyer of the old Southern home. "So much for your plan," she mumbles next to me.

"I told you it wasn't a _plan_," I whisper as we make our way through the living room. "Why am I always in charge of the plans anyway?"

I know the house should feel familiar to me, but I feel like I'm on a Hollywood set instead of Sookie's house. It's a little too surreal. All the furniture and decorations remain, but everything inside is covered in a thin dusting of dirt. There's really no other way to describe it. It just feels dirty and primal.

Trees have sprouted mysteriously from the floorboards and vines creep along the wallpapered walls. It reminds me of Max's bedroom in that one kid's book my mom used to read me when I was little. I half expect some gnashing-teeth and terrible-clawed monster to jump out of the shadows and start a Wild Rumpus.

"I'm not the one with the hero complex tattooed to her ass," she mumbles. "Besides, last time I took the lead, people got blown up."

I grasp the ax that Jason procured for me tighter as we make our way into the now-dilapidated kitchen. It smells horrible. There's dirty dishes piled high in the sink and swarms of flies buzz around the rotting bits of food. But that's not the worst of it. The kitchen floor is caked in dried blood and muddy footprints. The linoleum looks like they've been slaughtering animals (or at least I hope it's just animals and nothing more…human). I'm actually really happy Sookie agreed to stay outside, because I don't think she'd be able to handle seeing her grandmother's house look like this. I know it pissed me off when even a _window_ got broken in my mom's Sunnydale house.

"Let's just focus on killing this thing," I say under my breath, "and then you can have your pity party later."

The house feels eerily quiet. I had expected to find at least half a dozen of the zombie-fied townsfolk inside, but no one is here. I let down my guard slightly. Maybe MaryAnn isn't even here.

We come to the wooden staircase that leads to the second floor bedrooms. Faith's gaze travels up the stairs. "So what do you think? We check out upstairs next?"

"You check out the basement and I'll take the upstairs," I command. "If you find anything, come get me. I'll do the same." I give her a steely glare. "Do _not _try to take her on by yourself."

Faith gives me a mock salute. "Yes, sir." She gives me a cheeky smile.

I eyeball her. "I mean it, Faith," I tell her seriously. "Don't be impulsive."

"But I thought you _liked _it when I did surprising things?" she replies in a husky tone that hits me in all the right places. I feel those chocolate eyes rake over me and I can't help but get aroused. It's completely involuntary on my part, but I can't ignore the fact that it doesn't bother me at all.

I know she's trying to unsettle me, however, so I return the favor.

"Don't get killed tonight," I deliberately purr, stroking a finger along her jugular, along her clavicle, and stopping short of her cleavage, "and you can surprise me all you want. I might even have some surprises for you."

I hear choking noises as Faith struggles to respond. "I-uh."

I blow her a kiss and take my first steps up the stairs, feeling proud and justifiably smug. After all, it's a rare moment when I get the upper-hand on that girl.

The stairs creak under my step and it makes me wince. So much for sneaking up on whomever might be upstairs. Might as well just stomp up the wooden staircase or shoot up some warning flares before I make my grand entrance.

When I get to the second floor, all is still deathly quiet. The only sounds I hear are the squeaking wooden boards beneath my feet and the steady thump of my heart inside my ears.

The upstairs bathroom is empty. So is Sookie's childhood bedroom where I spent the night after getting attacked by a werewolf at Fangtasia. Which reminds me, I've got to look into that once this maenad situation is resolved. The only room remaining is Sookie's grandmother's bedroom. It seems sacrilegious that the maenad would be holed up in a dead woman's bedroom, but it certainly wouldn't surprise me.

The whitewashed door is slightly ajar, but not enough that I can peak in without moving the door out of the way. With the tip of my ax, I push the door open. It doesn't make a sound as it swings more fully open. The room is dark, with only the outside moonlight illuminating the space. I take a cautious step inside the bedroom. And then I'm attacked.

Two sets of strong hands seize me from either side. With the lights out, I can't see who's attacking me. There's no tingling in my body, however, so I assume that it's human. Strong, but still human. A foot lashes out and knocks me in the face and another leg kicks away the ax in my hands. My weapon falls to the ground with a heavy noise.

The overhead lights are suddenly flipped on and I squint into the unexpected lighting. Before my eyes can adjust to the light, I'm punched hard in the stomach, making me double over from the impact. A foot comes crashing down on my tailbone, forcing me to my knees.

I'm ripped back up from off the ground by the same, fierce hands. I twist and turn, struggling against my attackers, but their strength and efficiency is overwhelming. When I finally get a good look at who's been giving me this beat-down, I gasp when I recognize Tara and Eggs. Their eyes are dark pits, devoid of compassion.

A clucking noise alerts me that we're not alone in the room. I tear my eyes away from my assaulters and see MaryAnn reclined on Sookie's grandmother's bed. And she's wearing a horribly dated wedding dress.

"The '80s called," I taunt. "They want their prom dress back."

The crazed woman looks surprisingly calm. She gracefully sits up in the bed and stands. "Kakistos called," she retorts with a cruel smile, "and he wants your Heart."

I have no response. I simply wiggle and squirm, hoping to get out of Tara and Eggs' relentless hold.

The maenad sniffs, unimpressed. "I'm surprised you didn't run away." She appraises me with her dark, crazy eyes. "But it's no matter. I would have found you wherever you went. Kakistos always finds his own."

MaryAnn grabs onto the sleeve of my t-shirt and pulls hard, ripping away the material and exposing my upper arm. "Hey!" I complain, struggling against the tight grip of Tara and Eggs. "I liked this shirt!"

The woman stares hard at my bare flesh. "Where is the…where is His mark?" she demands, her normally beautiful features twisted into a horrible visage.

"Mark?" I ask, not sure to what she's referring.

"Hey, bitch," I hear a voice call out from behind me. Even without turning around – which I can't – I'd still recognize that voice anywhere. It's Faith. We must have been making enough noise up here that she heard the struggle down in the basement.

"Get her," the maenad shrieks. "I will not have her ruin my wedding day!"

Eggs releases his hold on me and launches his lithe swimmer-build at my sister-Slayer. She dodges his initial attack and he crashes into the doorframe. The impact shatters the frame and wood splinters fly in the air. The man slumps onto the floor like a giant sack of flour, momentarily unconscious from smashing his head into the plaster wall.

Tara forgets about me and she charges after Faith for injuring her mate. She releases an animalistic snarl and attacks. Faith is weaponless, but not. Our bodies are our weapons. She blocks the frantic clawing of the athletic bartender, but Tara is not one to give up easily.

I move to help my sister-Slayer, but a heated hand grips my wrist hard. It's MaryAnn. She's powerful. I can feel it in her fingers. She twists my hand backwards, crippling me. I can feel the tendons and tiny bones in my hand stretching and straining. She could crush my wrist with little effort.

Faith is able to get enough space between she and the possessed Bon Temps resident. She kicks out with a powerful leg, knocking Tara back and stunning her for a split second. It's just long enough that Faith is able to partially climb up the side of the wall and launch her body into a well-aimed spinning kick. Like a practiced gymnast, her long, lean body seems to hover in the air, spinning, turning, and connecting. Tara's head snaps to one side when my sister-Slayer's boot slams into her face and she falls on the ground next to her still-unmoving boyfriend.

It doesn't surprise me that Faith knocks out the two Louisianans so easily. We're both used to combat in confined spaces like this bedroom after all the fighting we do in sewers and crypts. I feel a tug at my Pride. I could have defeated them too if they hadn't surprise ambushed me.

MaryAnn lets out a startled cry when she sees her two helpers unconscious on the floor. She glares hard at the newcomer. "How dare you interrupt this," she seethes at the brunette slayer.

Faith rolls up the sleeve of her black t-shirt to reveal the familiar tattoo armband. "Hate to break it to ya lady, but you got the wrong Slayer," she sneers at the demonic woman.

"What?" MaryAnn cries out, releasing me and stepping away suddenly. Her face is incredulous. "I had you all along?"

Faith cocks her head to one side and leers at the maenad. "That's what you get for thinkin' B's the only one who can kill big daddy vamps."

MaryAnn's face twists into an ugly frown. "It's no matter," she says, almost to herself. "Now I'll just have you both. The Father will have you if it's the last thing I do."

For a split-second I worry that perhaps I was wrong – maybe Faith can't resist this woman's influence. Maybe there really is too much darkness inside her soul. But the Boston girl's eyes remain unchanged. The dark chocolate brown remains instead of being replaced by a soulless charcoal.

MaryAnn's facial features scrunch together, clearly confused that Faith hasn't fallen back under her thrall. My insides cheer and I rush over to Faith's side. The two of us face off against the powerful maenad.

The demon woman scowls and begins to mumble some gibberish under her breath. I'm afraid she's casting some kind of spell or summoning some of her possessed townsfolk. I lunge forward, not really planning my attack. My clenched fist meets the taller woman's jaw and her head jolts to one side from the impact. It might not have hurt her, but it at least stopped her crazy talking.

Faith follows up my attack with one of her own. The brunette slayer summersaults and picks up my discarded ax as she rolls forward. From her position on her knees, she hacks at the maenad's torso as though felling a giant tree. The ax finds its mark and becomes lodged inside the demon's stomach. MaryAnn lets out a pained shriek that tells me everything I need to know – she can feel pain.

The maenad stumbles backwards a bit. Her eyes flash with darkness and anger. MaryAnn takes the handle of the ax and wretches it free from her stomach. Thick, black liquid seeps from the wound and stains the front of her immaculately white wedding gown.

She raises the weapon above her head and with a whooping yell, she charges me. I avoid the first, unwieldy strike as the ax slices through the air. She surprises me, however by not following through. Instead, the end of the wooden handle finds my temple and it knocks me to the floor.

As I'm falling hard to the wooden floorboards, I hear Faith curse. When I hit the ground, my eyes close from the impact. When I open them again, Faith and the maenad are trading blows. The black stain on the front of MaryAnn's white dress continues to grow larger and larger as thick, viscid fluid bubbles out of her body.

"I could have made you great," the monster rants. She and Faith circle each other. "You had so much potential. The Father had high hopes for you."

Faith grits her teeth. "What can I say?" she barbs. "Never was about over-achieving or pleasin' anyone but myself."

And then, as if something torn out of Mortal Combat, Faith's fist thrusts forward and she plunges her hand deep into the demon's chest. I have a quick flashback to when I did the same to Adam, the hybrid demon-machine. A sick sucking noise fills the air, and when Faith retracts her arm, she's pulled out a black throbbing mass of flesh that I can only imagine is the monster woman's heart.

MaryAnn's mouth falls open like an unoccupied ventriloquist doll. More of that black fluid spills out of her slack jaw, and her body crumples to the floor in a heap.

"No one uses me as their bitch…you bitch," Faith mutters, towering over the maenad's unmoving form. Black liquid drips from the fingers on her right hand and she drops the creature's heart on the ground. After a few final struggling pulses, the dark mass ceases to move.

The Boston girl seems to shake herself, and she tears her eyes away from the maenad's body and turns to me instead. "You okay there, B?" Faith offers me her clean hand and I obligingly take it.

"Yeah," I grumble. "Just bruised my ego, is all."

The Boston girl hefts me off the dirty floor. The room spins a little from my knock to the head, but I know it's nothing to worry about. We both stare at the maenad's body, now just an empty shell, in contemplative silence.

"Do you think it worked?" Faith asks after a moment, her eyes not leaving the gruesome sight. "Do you think everything's back to normal?"

I shrug. "Only one way to find out, I guess."

The two of us share the view out of Sookie's bedroom window and view the landscape beneath us. I'm acutely aware of just how close Faith is standing next to me. I can literally feel the heat radiating off her body. After a confrontation like the one she just had with the maenad, I'm sure she's about ready to pop.

I try to wash that unsettling imagery out of my mind and focus instead on the view outside of the upper bedroom window.

A red-haired woman wearing too much blue eye shadow scampers noisily out of some shrubbery. She looks frazzled and disoriented. Her Southern drawl rings out among the muffled din: "Oh my Lord. What happened to my drawers?"

I can't help the giggle that bubbles out of my mouth. This has been one long and wild trip. I had planned on facing danger in New Orleans, but I never expected we'd face so much opposition along the way. With the heart-stealing maenad defeated, now Faith and I can continue our trip down Louisiana and track down the voodoo woman who supposedly has the key to defeating Twilight.

I breathe out a tired sigh and turn away from the windowsill.

"Speaking of drawers," Faith states, causing me to pause and lift an eyebrow in curiosity. "When do I get to cash in on that surprise you promised me?"

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: The Spoils of Victory**

**Buffy POV**

Back at Sam's bar, it's time to celebrate our victory over MaryAnn. After we killed the maenad, Andy Bellefleur insisted we go straight to the Bon Temps jail and release Sam. No one in our group complained at all about the detour.

To show his appreciation for our efforts, Sam opened the bar and gave us free rein. Merlotte's was empty besides our small group, however. The rest of the town was still recovering from a nasty bout of amnesia. I told Sookie to tell everyone there'd been a giant gas leak and that everyone had passed out from it. If life on the Hellmouth has taught me anything, people have a tendency to believe lies when the truth is too weird to believe.

I sit at the bar with a can of PBR in one hand and a smile on my face as some upbeat country rock song blares on the jukebox. I usually stay away from beer, especially after that unfortunate incident in college I'd like to forget about, but we won. It's about time I just let loose without worrying about the consequences.

And speaking of letting loose, my slaying partner is doing more than her fair share on the dance floor. Currently, the recipient of her, uh, looseness, is Jason Stackhouse. The two of them dance in the center of Merlotte's. No one else is dancing, but neither of them seems to mind this detail.

Jason doesn't look like he knows how to dance that well unless it's the line-dance variety, but with Faith, all you need to do is stand still and hope to not get burned by the heat pouring off her. After a monster slay like ripping the heart out of a maenad, I can only imagine how juiced she's feeling right now.

"You know you don't have anything to worry about with her, right?"

I tear my jealous gaze from Faith and Jason's gyrations momentarily to look into the eyes of Jason's sister, Sookie.

"Pardon?"

The Southern-girl gives me a gapped-toothed grin. "What I mean is, she couldn't care about Jason. He's just a body to grind against," she says in a slow drawl. "She really only wants to be with you. She just doesn't know how to approach you about it."

I frown. Despite Sookie's encouraging words, it disturbs me to know that Sookie can read Faith's thoughts. The brunette's mind has always been a complete enigma to me.

"Why don't you go to her?" the blonde waitress gently suggests. "You should tell her how you feel."

"But I don't _know_ how I feel," I insist with a pout.

"You may not have it entirely figured out yet," Sookie starts, "but you know at least that you _do _have feelings for her, right?"

"It's complicated. We're…Faith and me…we're complicated. But I do know I feel _something; _it's not like I just hop into bed with people I don't have feelings for," I reluctantly admit.

"Well then?" Her eyebrows rise slightly. "That's a start, ain't it?"

I sigh. My body feels heavy despite the levity I should be experiencing after winning a big battle like tonight's.

"I don't know what to do, Sookie," I mutter to the ground.

"Well, for starters," she begins, pulling me off my bar stool and helping me to my feet, "you can stop sulking in the corner and go over and dance with her." Sookie spins me away from the bar and I feel her hands in the center of my back giving me a gentle push towards the makeshift dance floor.

I tentatively step towards Jason and Faith. Neither of them seems to notice me, so I tap Jason on the shoulder. He stops dancing and turns to look at me.

"Oh hey there, Buffy," he grins.

"Can I…can I cut in?" I ask timidly.

"Well shucks, sure thing," Jason breezes. "There's plenty of me to go around."

I feel my face go red. "I, uh, I meant I wanted to dance with _Faith_," I clarify.

I can almost see the gears slowly churning in Jason's brain and a light bulb illuminate over his head when he suddenly realizes what I'm asking. A slow, wolfish grin spreads across his handsome face, and he takes a step away from Faith. "By all means," he agrees. He gives me a sly wink. "I don't always have to participate, you know," the Southern boy notes. "I don't mind watchin'."

Oh God. Ew. Just…ew.

Jason strolls away from us and looks once more over his shoulder before settling down on a stool at the bar. He gives me another wink and I don't know whether to laugh at him, crawl under the floorboards in embarrassment, or punch him in the face.

The feeling of Faith's hands on my hips immediately makes me forget all other thoughts, however.

_Suggested Listening: Kenny Wayne Shepherd – "Was" _

The beer. The dancing. The post-slayage hormones. The heat of her body against mine. All of it had been too much to resist.

After a few hours with the others, we escaped the after-party, holding hands and giggling like teenagers as we ran across Merlotte's parking lot back to our motel room. As soon as I'm able to open the door of our trailer-park abode and close the entrance behind me, my back is pressed against the back of the door, and Faith's lips are hungry at my mouth.

I eagerly kiss her back, losing myself to the electricity that seems to shoot all over my body wherever she's pressed against me. Her mouth is soft, yet firm against my own lips. Every now and again her tongue darts between my parted lips and brushes tantalizingly against my own tongue. When she sucks my bottom lip into her mouth and gently bites down, I feel warm all over. The Louisiana night air is thick and heavy and doing nothing to help me cool down.

"Faith, wait," I insist in a breathless voice. "Should we…I mean…is this a good idea?"

My head is swimming. I know I'm not drunk – not from alcohol at least – but Faith's pheromones are like a drug I can't get enough of. But even through this haze, a part of me is hanging back with the realization that every action has a consequence. More specifically, when I have sex, things tend to explode.

Her hands are at the bottom hem of her tank top and she's pulling her shirt off her head. "Relax, B," she hushes me. "We won tonight. We deserve a little fun."

She pulls off her chunky boots and tosses them in a far corner of the room. Her hands go to the waist of her pants. "You gonna join me, or what?" she asks in a voice laced with a challenge. "Otherwise I'm gonna start without ya," she says with a smirk.

I hesitate only momentarily. When she pops the top button of her pants and drags the zipper south, I realize just how insistent my own need is. I'm desperate to feel her naked skin against my own. The intensity frightens me a little, but I never imagined being with her would be anything but intense.

I strip down to nothing, and the rest of her clothing soon joins mine on the floor. She takes a bold step towards me, capturing my face in her hands and she draws me in for another deep kiss. Our tongues tangle as we make our way to the double bed in the center of our dilapidated motel room.

She's on top of me in an instant, a wicked grin spread across her beautiful face. It's a little manic, a little insane, but I trust her…mostly. She reaches between our bodies and strokes a hand from the hollow of my neck, between my naked breasts, down to the juncture between my legs. I groan and flex, my back reflexively arching upwards to meet her hot touch.

My hips twitch, rising upwards as well when her fingers spread my pussy lips apart. My heart is pounding, and I can feel my blood pulsing straight down to my clit. It makes me a little light-headed as if with vertigo, but I blink hard a few times and get my bearings back.

She pins my thighs beneath her own and positions herself so her naked sex is hovering above mine. When she presses her core against my most intimate parts, a strangled cry escapes my throat. It's louder than I would have expected.

"Fuck you feel good," she groans out, thrusting hard into me again. I'd echo her sentiments, but I don't think my mouth is able to form any words. She's warm and soft and hot and wet, all at the same time. Her back is arched, and her ample breasts swing freely above me as she continues to flex her hips, pressing our cores intimately together.

I unabashedly wrap my legs around her hips, my heels digging into her backside. Our clits mash harder together, pulling louder groans from our throats.

I've never felt such a primal _need _to be with someone, and my original inhibitions are only lurking shadows now. I rake my short nails down her shoulders, down her back, and she moans. Her eyes close tightly. "Yesssssss, Buffy," she hisses.

What she's doing feels good, but it's not enough. I need to feel her from the inside. Without verbally announcing my intensions, I maneuver out from under her slick form and push her onto her back towards the headboard. Her face reveals her surprise, but it's quickly replaced by a longing look.

I position myself between her spread thighs. My knees sink slightly into the mattress. With my right palm turned upward, I drag the tips of two fingers along her slick wetness from her ass to her clit. Her bare pussy lips are swollen and begging for attention.

I look up from my ministrations and am greeted by one of the hottest sights I've ever seen. Faith's chocolate eyes are squeezed shut and her mouth is agape, but no sound comes out. When I tentatively brush the tips of my fingers against her protruding clit, she gasps and her body jerks.

I bend at the waist, suck her clit into my mouth, and slide another finger into her molten center. A string of expletives rushes from her lips and she grabs onto the back of my neck, pulling me insistently into her sex. Her hips rise and fall with every thrust of my fingers. Her pubic bone bumps against my nose, but I don't think I'd even mind if I got a bloody nose from this.

With my free hand I pin her to the bed. She continues to squirm against the mattress, but I hold onto her tightly. Slayer strength is apparently useful for more than one thing. Her moans are louder now, and I know she's close. My fingers piston in and out of her tightening pussy. I feel her core clench and unclench around me, and soon she's howling out her orgasm. I lap at her clit harder, and Faith thrashes beneath me; I only stop when I feel her go limp.

I collapse forward, my fingers falling free of her pulsing core. My jaw hurts, my nose feels a little sore, and my right bicep feels strained.

Faith looks down at me through heavy lidded eyes. Her sex-tussled hair frames her face perfectly. Her brunette locks look soft, and I just want to run my fingers through her waves. On her beautiful mouth is a coy smile, and she bites on her bottom lip in such an adorable, yet sexy way that I want to have my way with her all over again.

And when the night draws to an end, I flop back on the bedspread with a huge smile on my face – a tired, satisfied, and happy smile. My skin is sweaty and my limbs ache.

Oh yes. It's good to be the winner.

Early the next morning, Faith and I check out of Sam's motel and pack up our belongings in our car. Mr. McFarlen finally fixed the fuel pump, albeit a little later than anticipated since he had been sucked into the maenad's 24/7 orgy party with most of the other townsfolk. Despite all the connections we'd made in just our short time in the small Louisiana town, only Sookie is here to see us off on the next leg of our trip. I imagine everyone else is too hung-over from last night's events.

Sookie gives me a smile and wraps me up in a tight hug. "I'm gonna be sad to see you two off," she says as she squeezes me tight. A sudden laugh bubbles out of her pink lips. "Don't look now," she whispers in my ear, "but Faith's wondering what we'd look like naked together." She snickers and pulls away from me. "That girl's almost insatiable as you," the blonde winks. "No wonder you make such a cute couple."

I pull away, knowing my face is beet red.

"Bill would be here to see you off, too, but uh…" she looks up at the sky and at the sun shining down on us. I feel sorry for this girl. I know all too well what it's like to love a vampire. It's not going to get any easier for her.

I smile knowingly. "Yeah, I understand," I lightly laugh. "Tell him thanks from us. He didn't have to help, but we certainly appreciate it."

Sookie fidgets, wringing her hands in front of her. "Sure you can't stick around a little longer?" she asks. "What with all that werewolf business?"

The waitress has a point. I _am _curious to know how a werewolf biker dude found out that I was a slayer and found me at Fangtasia. Moreover, why would he want to beat me to death? But something tells me it's not related to Twilight, and therefore beyond the scope of our particular mission. The important thing is to get down to New Orleans. Gotta see a voodoo priestess about a curse or something.

"If I had a nickel every time some evil thing wanted me dead, I'd…" I shake my head. "That's a silly saying. Who'd want to get paid in nickels, anyway?"

"B," Faith calls to me from our Honda Civic. She looks impatient and drums her fingers on the top of our car. "We should really be gettin' on the road. Still got a while to go before we get to the Big Easy," she reminds me.

I nod at her. I know it's time to leave. We've dawdled for too long in this Louisiana town, and it's time to start our Twilight mission once again. It's far too easy to just forget about the Big Picture and get sucked into these little victories; but it feels really good to have finally won a battle again.

It also feels amazing to have my strength back. As much as I used to whine about being the Chosen One and having these abilities that I never asked for, it's startling how much I actually _missed_ being a slayer. And it's not just about the strength and the Power; it's about being connected to something.

And I know that at some point I'm going to have to face my feelings for my sister-Slayer. My eyes stay on Faith's figure for a second too long as she climbs into the driver's seat of our compact car. Right now we might be able to pass off our recent intimacy on slaying, hormones, and sharing motel rooms for too long, but soon enough this is all going to blow up. We can't keep just being 'friends with benefits' before someone gets hurt, can we?

Sookie clears her throat, and I know she's been listening in on me again. I shoot her a glare and she returns my look with a sheepish shrug. "Sorry," she apologizes. "But your thoughts are always so juicy, I can't help but listen in on 'em just a little. It's better than a trashy romance novel."

I feel my face flush with the heat of embarrassment. I might miss this barmaid when we leave, but I certainly won't miss her eavesdropping in on my thoughts.

The blonde Louisianan smiles warmly. "All right. You'd better get goin'. Don't be a stranger now, ya hear? And if you run into any nasty business down in New Orleans, I'm expectin' a call. We're just a stones-throw away and Bill can drive really fast."

The waitress waves at us as I make my way over to the parked car. "Thanks you two for everything," she calls again. "I'd hate to think what woulda happened if your car hadn't decided to crap out in our little town."

Faith grins at me from the driver's side of the car. "You ready for this, girlfriend?" She looks devastatingly beautiful, and probably doesn't even realize it.

I pull my sunglasses down from my forehead and settle them on the bridge of my nose, flashing a smile at my sister-Slayer. I give her a crisp nod and open the passenger side door. I can only hope that I'm ready for whatever this adventure throws at us next. But as long as I've got her by my side, maybe it won't be so bad.

FIN


End file.
